THE 
MAYPAIR 


7859  MELROSE  AVENUE 
HOLLYWOOD,  CALIF. 


THE  MAYFAIR  RENTAL  LIBRARY 
BOOK  No. 

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and  shall  be  punished  accordingly. 


Clara  Lomsc  33  urn  I)  am 


IN  APPLE-BLOSSOM  TIME.     Illustrated. 

HEARTS'  HAVEN.  Illustrated  by  Helen  Mason  Grose. 

INSTFAD  OF  THE  THORN.     With  frontispiece. 

THE  RIGHT  TRACK.     Wilh  frontispiece  in  color. 

THE  GOLDEN   DOG.     Illustrated  in  color. 

THE   INNER  FLAME      With  froi.tispiece  in  color. 

CLEVER  BETSY.     Illustrated 

FLUTTERFLY.     Illtisiralcd. 

THE  LEAVEN  OF  LOVE       With  frontispiece  :n  color. 

THE  QUEST  FLOWER.      Illustrated. 

THE  OPENED   SMUr'ERS.       With  fronusp  ece  in 

color. 

JEWEL:   A    CHAPTER    IN    HER    LirE.     Illustrated. 
JEWEL'S    STORY  BOOK.     Illustrated. 
THE   RIGHT  PRINCESS 
MISS  PRITCHARD'S  WEDDING  TRIP. 
YOUNG   MAIDS   AND  OLD. 
DEARLY  BOUGHT. 
NO  GENTLEMEN. 
A  SANE    LUNATIC. 
NEXT   DOOR. 

THE  MISTRESS  OF  BEECH  KNOLL. 
MISS  BAGG'S  SECRETARY 
DR.  LATIMER. 

SWEET  CLOVER.      A  Romance  of  the  White  City. 
THE  WISE  WOMAN. 
MISS  ARCHER  ARCHER. 
A  GREAT  LOVE.     A  Novel. 
A  WEST  POINT  WOOING,  and  Other  Stories. 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND  Nrwr  YORK 


NEXT    DOOR 


BY 


CLARA  LOUISE  BURNHAM 

AUTHOR   Of   "  YOUNQ    MAIDS   AND   OLD,"    "NO   GENTLEMEN,"   ETC 


BOSTON   AND   NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 

ptw  CambriCoe 


COPYRIGHT,  1886,  BY  TICKNOR  AND  COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT,  1914,  BY  CLARA  LOUISE  BURNHAM 


ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


COKTEKTS. 


CHAPTER  FA«r 

I.  AUNT  ANN'S  DECISION 5 

II.  THE  LAST  PLATFORM 11 

III.  KATE'S  THEORIES 20 

IV.  KITS'  TRAVELS       28 

V.  AUNT  ANN'S  SHOPPING 36 

VI.  KATE  AND  MARGERY 44 

VII.  A  VISIT  OF  CEREMONY       55 

VIII.  THE  GIRLS'  PHOTOGRAPHS 67 

IX.  A  COUP  D'ETAT 78 

X.  MARGERY'S  CONFESSION 9? 

XI.  A  LITTLE  DIFFERENCE 1(X» 

XII.  AN  UMBRELLA  AND  A  ROSE 116 

XIII.  BAD  NEWS 126 

XIV.  THE  COMMITTEE  DECIDE 140 

XV.  FRILLS  AND  FURBELOWS 149 

XVI.  MRS.  FARRAR'S  MUSICALE      ......  156 

XVII.  CROSS-QUESTIONINGS 178 

XVIII.  KATE  ACCEPTS  ADVICE 190 

XIX.  MARGERY  RECEIVES  ....  ,205 


2224804 


i  CONTENTS. 

XX.    A  BUSINESS  OFFER 218 

XXL  AUNT  ANN  OPENS  HER  HEART      ....    233 

XXII.    RAY  CROSSES  THE  RUBICON 246 

XXIII.  UNCLE  AND  NEPHEW 260 

XXIV.  KATE'S  DIPLOMACY 278 

XXV.    IN  THE  COUNTRY 286 

XXVI.    MARGERY  SUSPECTS 298 

XXVII.    AT  MRS.  PARKER'S 313 

XXVIII.    MRS.  EXTON  is  SHOCKED 332 

XXIX.    "THEE  LOVED  I  EVEB" 345 

JSXX.    WOOD  VIOLETS  .  356 


NEXT    DOOR. 


CHAPTER  I. 
AUNT  ANN'S  DECISION. 

AUNT  ANN  EATON  was  alone  in  her  sitting-room, 
surroundings  were  as  orderly  as  heart  could  wish. 
NTot  a  shi'ed  or  clipping  defaced  the  rag  carpet.  Not 
a  speck  of  dust  rested  on  the  straight-legged  stand 
which  held  her  work-basket.  The  brass  handles  of 
the  secretary,  which  seemed  to  be  drawing  itself  flat 
against  the  wall,  in  order  to  take  up  as  little  room  as 
possible,  tinily  reflected  the  fire  glowing  in  the  open 
stove ;  a  generous,  warm  fire,  such  as  one  would  know 
to  be  the  only  sort  Aunt  Ann  could  build.  The  very 
cat,  an  imposingly  large,  well-fed  Maltese,  had  his  fore- 
paws  tucked  in  symmetrically  under  his  soft  breast  as 
he  basked  in  the  warmth,  and  studied  the  leaping 
flames  with  half-closed  eyes. 

The  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  beside  which 
his  mistress  was  sitting,  was  covered  with  a  faded 
green  and  black  cloth  which  had  seen  years  of  service, 
but  was  spotless  yet.  The  lamp  upon  it  shone  with 
rubbing,  and  burned  with  a  clear,  broad  light. 

ft 


I  NEXT  DOOR. 

In  all  the  simple  scene  there  was  nothing  awry  but 

Aunt  Ann's  own  cap,  and  this  misfortune,  of  which  the 
wearer  was  unconscious,  was  due  to  the  fact  that  two 
pairs  of  spectacles  had  in  turn  been  pushed  to  the  top 
of  her  head,  to  make  room  for  a  third,  in  heavy  gold 
frames,  and  much  too  broad  for  the  dear  woman's 
comfort,  through  which  she  was  studying  one  of  two 
open  letters  which  lay  spread  out  before  her  on  the 
table. 

Her  forefinger  traced  an  imaginary  line  under  each 
sentence  while  she  read  as  follows,  metering  her  com- 
ments aloud  :  — 

Oct.  20,  1881. 

DEAK  AUNT  ANN,  —  Do  you  rernemDer  toe  fellow  who 
lived  at  your  house  three  years  ago,  and  nearly  ate  you  on* 
of  house  and  home?  (I  declare  I  didn't,  at  first;  it's  a 
wonder  how  time  tempers  afflictions.)  I  do  not  believe 
you  have  had  the  courage  to  keep  another  summer  boarder 
since  we  left  you.  (Yes,  I  have,  young  man;  but  your 
match  I  have  never  found.)  And  yet  I  want  you  to  forget 
old  scores,  and  do  me  a  big  favor.  I  saw  by  the  papers 
that  your  father  had  left  you.  (H'm,  h'm !  poor  pa.)  Please 
accept  my  hearty  sympathy.  I  know  you  expected,  even 
when  we  were  in  Cedarville,  that  he  could  not  live  long,  so 
I  hope  you  were  prepared  for  the  loss.  (That  can't  ever  be, 
my  boy.)  What  I  want  you  to  do,  Aunt  Ann,  if  you  are 
well,  and  willing  to  make  a  change,  is  to  come  into  the  city 
this  winter,  and  keep  house  for  a  few  of  ns  old  bachelors. 
t  have  come  to  Boston  to  go  into  my  uncle's  office,  and, 
according  to  his  suggestion,  a  few  fellows  and  myself, 
instead  of  boarding,  are  going  to  take  a  house,  and  have  a 
housekeeper;  just  the  right  sort  of  a  one,  like  you.  Do  no| 
refuse  us.  will  you?  I  have  cracked  you  up  to  the  skies 


ATJNT  ANN'S  DECISION.  7 

but  don't  you  be  afraid ;  you  can  do  every  bit  I  have  prom- 
ised, and  if  you  get  tir«d  of  us  we  will  let  you  off  in  the 
epring.  And  don't  you  worry  about  being  ruined.  My 
appetite  has  fallen  off  wonderfully.  You  ought  to  see  my 
present  indifference  to  apples  and  boiled  eggs.  (Well,  well, 
I  can't  hardly  believe  it,  but  still  I'd  hope  for  the  best.) 
Uncle  John  has  closed  the  bargain  for  a  house  this  morn- 
ing, so  please  hurry  up  and  let  us  hear  your  decision.  As 
for  me,  I  shall  not  have  an  easy  moment  until  I  know  what 
sort  of  dinners  I  am  going  to  have  all  winter.  (That  don't 
sound  like  cai'elessness  of  victuals.)  So  do  not  postpone, 
but  speak  at  once  the  one  little  word  which  is  to  nuiko 
happy  Yours  forever,  RAY  INGALLS, 

Block,  City. 

Aunt  Ann  sighed,  straightened  up  in  her  chair,  and, 
gently  removing  the  glasses,  wiped  her  tired  eyes  with 
her  handkerchief. 

"Pa's  specs  don't  see  any  more  objection  to  it  than 
mine  did,"  she  observed,  "and  I  don't  suppose  I  have 
any  right  to  sleep  on  it  another  night,  if  they  are  really 
in  a  hurry,  as  that  rascal  says  they  are.  I  wouldn't  go 
if  it  was  to  have  the  care  of  that  boy;  no,  not  if 
Cedarville  was  duller  than  it  is  twice  over ;  but  there's 
Uncle  John!  Yes,  indeed,  Kits,"  looking  pensively 
across  at  the  somnolent  cat,  "Uncle  John  is  ray  main- 
stay. It  is  lonely  here,  now  that  pa's  gone ;  lonelier 
even  than  I  thought  it  could  be.  Not  that  you  care, 
Kits.  So  long  as  you  have  your  fire  and  me,  you  don't 
care  a  mouse-tail  whether  I  am  happy  or  not." 

At  the  reproachful  tone,  Kits  opened  his  mouth 
wmd  went  through  the  form  of  a  "meow,"  too  indo« 


8  NEXT   DOOR. 

lent   to  utter  a  sound,  then  relapsed   into   unrepent 
ant  enjoyment. 

"Yes,"  continued  Aunt  Ann,  her  eyes  wandering 
thoughtf ully  to  the  blaze,  "  if  I  was  really  aunt  to  that 
scamp  I  should  shrink  from  undertaking  any  position 
of  responsibility  near  him ;  but  his  own  uncle  will 
have  him  under  his  eye  night  and  day,  and  I  shall 
leave  everything  to  him.  Lucy  Robinson  and  her 
mother  will  be  glad  to  come  right  in  here.  They'll 
take  good  care  of  the  house,  and  then,  most  important 
of  all,  I  can  have  an  eye  to  the  girls" ;  and  Aunt  Ann 
drew  toward  her  the  second  letter,  not  quite  so  well 
worn  as  the  first,  and,  adjusting  her  own  familiar  spec 
tacles,  perused  it  once  more :  — 

BOSTON,  Oct.  20,  1881. 

MY  DEAR  AUNT  ANN,  —  It  is  an  iL  return  for  your  kind- 
ness and  interest  in  our  welfare,  to  write  you  so  seldom.  I 
am  especially  to  blame  for  not  responding  sooner  to  yonr 
kind  offer  that  we  should  spend  the  winter  with  you.  You 
understand  the  case,  do  you  not,  dear  Aunt  Ann?  We  can- 
not afford  to  live  in  any  way  but  the  present  one.  If  w« 
came  to  Cedarville,  it  would  be  as  dependants  upon  you, 
while  as  we  are  now  situated  we  do  manage  to  be  self- 
supporting.  I  ought  not  to  give  up  the  church  position 
that  Madam  Sevrance  pi-ocured  for  me,  which,  with  the  lit- 
tle teaching  I  do,  and  Margery's  good  management  at  home 
makes  both  ends  meet,  although  in  an  inelegant  way  which 
irritates  my  little  sister  very  much.  It  is  kind  of  you  to 
keep  up  your  interest  in  nieces  of  whom  you  have  seen  so 
little,  and  I  value  your  affection,  and  am  conscious  of  a 
dependence  on  the  fact  that  there  is  a  loving  aunt  who 
Would  receive  us  into  her  quiet,  peaceful  home  in  case  of 


AUNT  ANN'S   DECISION.  9 

need.  I  fear  you  are  very  lonely  since  grandfather  went, 
and  I  wish  I  had  a  home  where  I  could  welcome  you  to 
pleasant  change  and  recreation.  Surely  no  daughter  ever 
was  more  devoted  than  you  have  been.  When  I  think  ol 
what  your  cares  must  have  been  in  that  tedious  illness,  I 
realize  your  patience  and  cheerfulness. 

It  is  time  to  give  a  lesson,  and  I  must  go.     Write  soon 
again  to  Your  loving  niece, 

KATE  STANDISH. 


"A  good  girl,"  mused  Aunt  Ann,  "a  good  girl.  I 
should  like  to  know  the  ins  and  outs  of  their  life  since 
Henry  Standish  died.  Oh,  men,  men!  I  suppose  I 
hadn't  ought  to  set  up  for  a  judge,  being  an  old  maid ; 
but  from  my  standpoint,  Kits,"  addressing  the  heavily 
purring  cat,  "  it  does  seem  as  though  your  sex  galli- 
vants through  life,  while  ours  plods.  Married  or  sin- 
gle, seems  as  if  the  torments  of  life,  mostly  little  ones, 
to  be  sure,  but  a  pile  of  'em,  was  ours,  and  the  pleasures 
yours.  However,  it  looks  as  though  I  was  going  to 
have  a  better  chance  of  studying  male  character  than 
what  I  have  had.  I  shall  like  the  change  to  the  city ; 
I  don't  deny  it.  I've  been  tied  down  pretty  close,  and 
I  shall  like  to  see  some  of  the  gay  sights.  But  I  shall 
amazingly  like  to  walk  in  upon  Kate  and  Margery." 
Aunt  Ann  stooped  her  plump  figure,  remarkably 
shapely  for  her  fifty  years,  and  adjusted  the  ribbon 
on  her  cat's  neck.  "  Blue  does  become  you,  Kits. 
Now  look  at  there.  You've  smooched  your  best  tie, 
Mercy  on  me,  what  will  you  do  in  Boston,  where  it's 
«o  much  dirtier  than  this  ?  It  will  be  a  big  bother,  but 


tO  NEXT  DOOR. 

I  shall  have  to  take  you  around  to  the  stores  and  see 
if  I  can  match  you  in  ribbon,  and  if  I  can  I  shall  buy 
a  whole  bolt,  and  keep  you  in  gray  all  the  time.  It 
will  mortify  your  pride,  and  be  good  for  you.  Now, 
then,"  with  a  sigh  and  a  shake  of  the  head,  "  I  must 
write  a  word  to  Ray  Ingalls.  Dear,  dear,  it's  a  great 
step ;  but  it  does  comfort  me  to  think  that  I  shall  only 
have  my  routine  work  to  do,  —  there  will  be  good, 
Btaid  Uncle  John  to  see  to  the  rest.  Boys  are  a  terri- 
ble responsibility,  especially  that  boy." 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  LAST  PLATFORM. 

AT  the  depot  of  one  of  the  more  distant  suburbs  ol 
Boston,  on  a  late  afternoon  in  October,  stood  a  group 
of  young  ladies  conversirg  in  an  animated  manner, 
with  complete  disregard  for  that  law  of  etiquette 
which  demands  that  one  person  ahall  have  finished 
Bpeaking  before  another  commences.  One  in  particu- 
lar seemed  to  be  the  centre  of  attraction.  She  was  a 
pretty  creature  of  eighteen  years,  with  a  great  deal 
of  red-brown  hair  which  evidently  resisted  being  com- 
pressed  into  twists  compact  enough  for  fashion,  blue 
eyes,  now  glinting  and  laughing  merrily,  and  a  fine 
iskin,  smooth  and  white. 

"Oh,  I  ought  to  have  taken  the  last  train,  girls. 
See  how  low  the  sun  is.  Kate  will  be  so  annoyed  !  " 
she  exclaimed  parenthetically ;  "  she  won't  let  me 
come  out  here  again  for  an  age.  How  fortunate 
that  this  is  an  express.  There  it  comes  now." 

Then  followed  last  words,  exactions,  promises,  and 
kisses,  in  such  profusion  as  seems  possible  only  among 
a  bevy  of  schoolgirls,  lasting  so  long  as  to  threaten 
the  possible  losing  of  this  train  also. 

11 


12  NEXT  DOOB. 

"  Write  to  me  first,  Margery.  You've  promised, 
remember." 

"See  if  you  can't  come  out  next  Saturday.  If 
Kate  won't  let  you,  run  away." 

"Yes,  yes,  anything.  Mercy,  the  bell  is  ringing! 
Do  you  want  me  to  get  left  again?  The  last  plat- 
form of  the  last  car,  as  usual,'''  laughed  Margery, 
mounting  to  that  elevation  just  as  the  engine  moved. 

Her  enthusiastic  friends  walked  a  few  steps  beside 
her  on  the  platform.  They  were  her  schoolmates,  from 
whom  she  had  been  prematurely  separated  by  reverses 
of  fortune.  A  most  unkind  fate  they  felt  it  to  be, 
that  gay,  clever,  generous-hearted  Margery  should  be 
obliged  to  leave  them,  should  be  obliged  to  forego  all 
the  glories  of  graduation  for  petty  money  considera- 
tions. She  was  the  prime  favorite  of  her  class,  and 
had  not  an  enemy  among  the  number.  No  wonder 
they  hailed  with  joy  the  occasional  visits  she  was  able 
to  make  them,  and  parted  from  her  with  a  reluctance 
that  would  fain  retard  the  time  and  train  that  bore 
her  away.  "Good-bye,  good-bye,"  came  from  the 
group,  who  waved  their  handkerchiefs  after  the  re- 
treating figure.  Margery  sent  them  a  gay  nod  and  a 
lingering,  smiling  look,  then  turned  to  enter  the  car. 
As  she  did  so,  a  man  jumped  up  on  the  opposite  step, 
a  belated  passenger,  who  had  evidently  but  narrowly 
escaped  waiting  for  the  next  train  to  Boston.  He 
was  a  tall  man  of  grave  countenance,  smooth  shaven, 
thin-lipped,  and  dark-skinned. 

Margery  glanced  at  him,  and  then  turned  the  handle 


THE  LAST  PLATFOBM.  13 

of  the  door.  As  it  stuck,  she  flung  her  body  against 
it.  Her  companion  observed  her  fruitless  effort. 
"Allow  me,"  he  said,  and  the  girl  stepped  back  cau- 
tiously, holding  well  to  the  rail,  for  the  express  had 
now  attained  full  speed,  and  the  rush  and  swing  con* 
fused  her. 

Her  fellow-passenger  grasped  the  handle,  looking 
in  through  the  door,  which  remained  firmly  closed  i» 
spite  of  his  efforts. 

"  What  is  this,"  he  muttered ;  then  continued 
in  a  louder  and  annoyed  tone,  '*  This  car  is  empty 
and  locked.'* 

"  Locked !  It  cannot  be  locked !  "  exclaimed  Mar- 
gery, leaning  toward  the  window  and  looking  aghast 
at  the  blankness  within,  while  a  sensation  of  loneli- 
ness and  fright  came  over  her,  despite  the  familiarity 
of  the  flying  landscape.  What  a  situation !  Alone, 
or  worse  than  alone,  on  the  last  platform  of  the  last 
car  of  a  train  which  for  nearly  an  hour  would  not 
cease-  from  this  jerking,  swinging,  dizzying  pace. 

She  glanced  apprehensively  at  her  companion,  and 
with  a  woman's  quickness  comprehended  the  perfec- 
tion of  his  attire.  His  uncompromising  face,  too, 
with  its  slight  frown,  reassured  her.  She  plucked  no 
'courage  to  address  him. 

"  Isn't  there  something  we  could  pull,  or  —  or 
something?"  she  suggested,  with  a  vague  look  at  the 
roof  of  the  car;  but  her  voice  was  too  faint  to  be 
heard,  and  moreover  no  cord  dangled  encouragingly 
above  them.  At  the  same  moment  her  companion 


14  NEXT  DOOR, 

grasped  her  suddenly  and  unceremoniously  by  the 
arm  as  the  train  in  going  around  a  curve  swayed  her 
irresistibly  against  him. 

"Thank  you, — excuse  me,"  she  exclaimed.  "Oh, 
I  am  so  dizzy." 

Her  fellow-passenger's  countenance  lost  its  intro- 
spective frown  as  he  noted  her  pallor. 

"  Do  you  feel  faint  ?  "  he  inquired  anxiously,  only 
now  realizing  that  somebody  else,  and  that  somebody 
quite  a  young  girl,  required  his  attention.  "  Struggle 
against  it  if  possible,  I  beg  of  you." 

Margery  gently  withdrew  her  arm.  "  I  shall  not 
faint.  I  never  do.  I  am  only  a  little  dizzy-headed." 

"Then  you  had  better  sit  down  on  the  step.  It 
will  be  much  safer.  Wait  a  moment,"  and  so  saying, 
the  gentleman  removed  the  large  silk  handkerchief 
lying  immaculately  white  beneath  his  coat  collar,  and, 
spreading  it  on  the  step,  placed  his  foot  upon  its  edge 
to  hold  it  in  place. 

"Thank  you,  but  don't  do  that,  please;  it  is  not 
necessary  at  all,"  said  Margery,  looking  down  over  her 
well-shaped,  but  inexpensive  dress. 

"  I  am  sure  the  step  would  soil  you,"  he  replied. 
u  Give  me  your  hand,  please." 

The  girl  obeyed  and  was  soon  safely  seated. 

Her  companion  looked  at  her  undecidedly.  "  Is 
there  any  danger  of  your  being  giddy  enough  to  faU 
off?" 

"  No  danger  at  all,  thank  you.  I  am  very  comfort- 
able." She  received  no  reply  to  this,  and  for  a  time 


THE   LAST   PLATFORM.  15 

no  sound  was  heard  save  that  of  the  train.  Cmiosity 
then  overpowering  her,  she  looked  slowly  and  cau- 
tiously over  her  shoulder.  On  the  opposite  step  sat 
her  fellow-passenger,  his  back  turned  squarely  upon 
her,  his  head  erect,  and  his  whole  attitude  that  of  a 
dignified  resignation  to  circumstances.  As  her  un- 
easiness disappeared,  her  ever  ready  and  keen  sense 
of  the  ludicrous  gained  control.  What  would  the 
girls  say  to  see  her  now,  solemnly  sitting  back  to  back 
with  this  unknown  companion.  At  the  thought  she 
began  to  laugh ;  and  as  it  was  rather  a  new  experience 
to  Margery  to  be  obliged  to  contain  her  laughter,  her 
fellow-passenger,  when  a  little  later  he  remembered 
her  existence  and  turned  about,  saw  her  shaking  with 
apparent  sobs.  He  leaned  toward  her,  startling  her 
by  his  sudden  speech. 

"Can  I  do  anything  for  you?    Are  you  feeling  — 

m?" 

She  turned  her  flushed  face  toward  him. 

As  he  saw  her  irrepressible  smile  and  his  own  mis- 
take, he  also  smiled,  in  a  slight,  grave  fashion.  Mar- 
gery g-rew  warm  with  a  sudden  surprise.  Like  a  flash 
arose  before  her  a  scene  in  one  of  the  busiest  streets 
of  Boston.  A  pair  of  horses  rearing  and  plunging  at 
a  crossing.  Herself,  her  arms  full  of  bundles,  attempt- 
ing to  cross  before  the  excited  animals,  and,  starting 
back  in  fear,  dropping  the  packages,  which  scattered 
hither  and  thither.  A  gentleman  behind  her,  who 
came  to  the  rescue,  picked  up  the  parcels,  and  restored 
them  with  ,hat  smile  accompanying  the  action. 


16  NEXT   DOOR. 

Margery  in  her  agitation  could  not  have  remem- 
bered the  man,  but  she  remembered  the  smile.  It 
was  loftily  kind,  and  sweet,  and  noble,  she  thought. 
It  had  not  in  it  a  shade  of  ridicule. 

The  vision  passed.     Her  companion  was  speaking. 

"  I  think  myself  we  have  cause  to  congratulate  our- 
selves on  the  shortness  of  the  days.  We  might  pro- 
vide the  populace  too  much  amusement,"  he  said,  and 
then  Margery  laughed  out  contagiously. 

"  There  is  something  so  —  so  ignominious  about  our 
position,"  she  returned.  "We  are  so  helpless." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  other,  "  if  the  railroad  company 
thrusts  ignominy  upon  us  in  this  way,  it  must  expect 
to  be  cheated.  We  have  solved  the  question  of 
economical  travel  at  any  rate." 

"It  is  really  getting  dark,"  said  the  girl,  looking 
about  apprehensively.  "  I  ought  to  have  caught  the 
last  train." 

"Will  your  people  be  anxious  about  you?" 

"My  sister  will,  I  am  afraid.  She  is  apt  to  be 
anxious." 

"  You  must  let  me  take  you  safely  home,"  was  the 
kind  reply.  "As  we  have  shared  so  many  difficulties 
together,  I  should  be  sorry  not  to  see  you  well  situated 
before  we  separate.  There  is  my  card."  Margery 
accepted  it. 

The  name  thereon  was  John  Exton. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Exton,"  she  replied,  "but  Kate, 
—  my  sister  —  will  be  sure  to  meet  me.  She  always 
does,  no  matter  how  erratic  my  movements  are.'* 


THE  LAST   PLATFORM.  17 

"  You  are  fortunate  to  have  a  sister  so  devoted." 

"Ah,"  with  a  little  shake  of  the  head,  "indeed  I 
am.  Nobody  knows  what  Kate  is,  —  nobody  except 
me,  and  I  sometimes  think  that  I  cannot  appreciate 
her." 

Mr.  Exton  regarded  the  young,  earnest  face,  grow- 
ing indistinct  now  in  the  waning  light. 

"  You  are  modest,"  he  replied. 

Margery  looked  up,  and  observed  the  increasing 
number  of  buildings  and  the  lessening  speed  of  the 
train. 

"Ah,  we  are  nearly  there,"  she  said;  then,  with 
sudden  eagerness,  "  Don't  you  think  we  could  manage 
to  get  off  a  little  before  the  train  stops?  I  do  not 
wish  to  —  to  —  " 

"To  take  too  many  people  into  our  confidence?" 

"  Yes.  Only,"  here  she  gave  an  irrepressible  little 
laugh,  "  I  do  wish  Kate  — my  sister  —  could  see  us  first. 
She  would  be  so  —  so  magnificently  shocked." 

"Well,  I  think  we  can  hardly  risk  her  being  on  the 
spot  at  precisely  the  right  moment,"  and  Mr.  Exton, 
who  had  risen,  offered  his  hand  to  his  companion. 

Margery  rose  with  his  assistance,  and,  smiling 
brightly,  handed  him  his  muffler. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  she  said ;  "  I  was  fortunate 
not  to  be  alone  in  this  predicament.  You  have  been 
very  kind." 

Her  companion's  impressive  figure  towered  beside 
her.  At  her  spontaneous  words  he  lifted  his  hat  and 
bowed  slightly. 


18  NEXT   DOOR. 

The  train  came  gradually  to  a  standstill,  but  befora 
it  had  stopped  Mr.  Exton  had  jumped  off  and  his 
fellow-passenger  stood  ready  to  descend. 

With  her  foot  on  the  second  step  she  caught  sight 
of  a  tall,  graceful  figure  scanning  the  passengers  with 
beautiful,  anxious  eyes. 

"  There  is  Kate,  now !  Kate  !  "  she  exclaimed.  Her 
sister  heard  her  and  turned  quickly.  She  had  Mar- 
gery's exquisite  complexion  but  that  the  elder's  was 
more  colorless,  large,  gray-blue  eyes,  and  a  dimple  in  the 
chin,  which  softened  the  too  great  gravity  of  her  face. 

"Did  you  worry,  Kate?  I  know  you  did.  I  am  so 
sorry.  Let  me  introduce  to  you  Mr.  Exton,  who  has 

befriended  me  ever  since  we  left  W .  This  is 

my  sister,  Miss  Standish." 

"  Shall  I  have  the  pleasure  of  escorting  you  home, 
or  of  getting  you  a  carriage  ? "  asked  Exton,  after 
the  customary  salutations  had  been  exchanged. 

The  look  of  annoyance  which  had  flashed  into 
Kate's  face  at  sight  of  her  sister  in  the  company  of  a 
stranger,  now  deepened,  while  Margery  glanced  at  her 
anxiously. 

"I  thank  you,  no,"  Kate  said,  quietly  and  civilly. 
"  My  sister  and  I  are  never  afraid  together." 

"  I  fear  your  sister  must  be  chilled.  I  shall  be  glad 
to  call  upon  you  to-morrow  and  assure  myself  that 
she  has  not  suffered." 

Miss  Standish  slipped  her  hand  through  Margery's 
arm,  while  her  color  rose,  and  her  manner  grew  evei 
moro  distant. 


THE  LAST  PLATFOKM.  19 

*'My  sister  is  very  strong,  Mr.  Exton,  and  "we  do 
Dot  receive  visitors.  Good  night." 

But  Margery  did  not  relish  the  abruptness  of  this 
parting.  Even  as  her  sister  drew  her  away,  she  turned 
and  held  out  her  hand  to  her  new  friend  with  hef 
brightest  look. 

"Thank  you  again,  Mr.  Exton,"  she  said,  as  ha 
shook  her  hand.  "  Good 


CHAFi'ER  IIL 

KATE'S   THEORIES. 

Ow  their  way  home  the  sisters  were  seated  on  oppo 
Bite  sides  of  the  horse-car  which  they  had  taken  just 
outside  the  depot.  Speech  being  impossible,  mis- 
chievous Margery  rather  enjoyed  the  stern  seriousness 
of  Kate's  face.  The  latter  evidently  avoided  meet- 
ing her  sister's  eye,  and  therefore  Margery  sedulously 
endeavored  to  catch  the  wandering  glance,  and,  on  the 
rare  occasions  of  success,  beamed  upon  Kate  with  a 
cheerful  assurance  which  rather  deepened  the  impene> 
trable  gravity  of  the  latter's  countenance. 

At  last  Kate  rose  and  rang  the  bell.  The  car 
stopped  in  front  of  a  block  of  brick  houses,  into  one 
of  which  the  girls  passed  with  the  aid  of  a  latch  key. 
Margery  came  last  up  the  stairs  and  followed  her 
Bister  into  a  back  room  on  the  second  floor. 

"  Shall  I  go  right  into  the  closet,  Kate,"  she  asked, 
w  or  may  I  say  a  few  words  in  my  own  defence  first?* 

"  I  am  not  in  a  joking  mood,  Margery,"  replied  the 
other,  taking  off  her  outer  garments. 

a  That  remark  is  quite  superfluous.  You  dear  old 
20 


KATE'S  THEORIES.  21 

Kate!  how  you  do  distrust  me,  don't  you?"  and 
Margery  turned  her  back  in  an  injured  fashion  as  she 
struggled  out  of  her  tight-fitting  walking-jacket. 

Kate's  anxious  eyes  followed  her  movements. 

"  I  know  that  you  seldom  stop  to  think  until  after- 
ward," she  answered. 

"  If  it  wasn't  all  so  perfectly  ridiculous,  I  should  be 
angry  with  you,"  said  Margery,  half  laughing,  but 
with  an  inclination  to  tears.  "  You  have  only  lived 
three  years  longer  than  I  have,  though  you  do  pretend 
to  be  such  a  grandmother.  We  have  had  the  same 
bringing-up,  and  yet  nothing  will  convince  you  that  I 
know  how  to  behave.  I  wish  you  would  either  send 
me  to  a  reform  school  at  once  or  else  have  a  little 
confidence  in  me,"  and  now  the  tears  triumphed, 
although  the  laughter  struggled  with  them. 

Kate  put  an  arm  around  the  speaker  and  drew  her 
down  on  the  side  of  the  bed.  "  Don't  get  excited, 
Margery  dear.  You  see  I  am  not  excited." 

"  Oh,  of  course  not,  Grandma !  "  retorted  the  other, 
tearfully. 

"  I  have  every  confidence  in  your  meaning  well, 
Margery;  every  confidence.  You  know  that.  But 
you  do  not  always  look  at  things  as  I  do.  You  do 
not  take  the  same  view  of  our  circumstances  that  I  do, 
nor  shape  your  actions  to  suit  them  as  I  wish  you 
would." 

"  No,  I  believe  you  would  like  us  to  dress  like  nuns, 
and  go  about  with  our  eyes  down  and  our  hands 
folded.  I  don't  see  tne  necessity  for  it.  I  never 


22  NEXT  DOOR. 

shall.  We  have  lost  our  parents  and  our  money,  :ir>-d 
our  home ;  but  we  are  young  and  full  of  life,  and  it  is 
folly  to  talk  about  our  behaving  like  eighty -year-old 
dummies." 

"Margery,  we  are  unprotected  girls,  alone  in  a 
boarding-house.  We  cannot  —  " 

"Who  wants  to  be  protected?"  interrupted  the 
other,  with  extreme  scorn.  "In  this  free  country, 
girls  can  protect  themselves." 

"  That  is  precisely  it,"  said  Kate,  seriously.  "  We 
must  protect  ourselves  by  being  entirely  quiet  and 
unobtrusive.  Now,  you  are  naturally  an  obtrusive 
girl,  Margery." 

"  Thank  you  so  much ! "  exclaimed  the  other,  in 
indignant  surprise. 

"  A  noticeable  girl,  I  mean.  You  need  always  to  be 
toning  yourself  down  and  controlling  your  impulses." 

"  Well,  this  is  a  pretty  reward  for  my  behavior 
to-day,  I  must  say,"  burst  forth  Margery,  her  fluffy 
hair  awry  and  her  eyes  flashing.  "  I  should  like  to 
have  seen  you  in  my  place.  I  should  like  to  know 
what  you  would  have  done.  I  know  one  thing,  you 
would  not  have  been  as  agreeable  as  I  was." 

*'I  am  sure  I  should  not,"  returned  Kate,  with 
something  like  a  groan,  and  a  return  of  her  anxious 
expression.  "You  know  I  am  waiting  for  an  explana- 
tion of  how  you  and  Mr.  Exton  should  so  suddenly 
have  become  friends." 

"  You  speak  as  though  you  knew  him." 

"I  have  known  him  for  some  time  by  sight,  as  h« 


KATE'S  THEORIES.  23 

attends  the  Church  of  The  Apostles.  He  is  very  rich 
and  an  important  personage  in  the  society." 

"  Does  he  bring  a  wife  to  church  with  him  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  Then  I  shall  insist  upon  going  with  you  here- 
after." 

"  You  will  not  do  anything  of  the  kind,"  said  Kate, 
quickly.  "  We  decided  that,  you  know.  You  will 
continue  to  attend  our  own  church." 

"  Well,"  said  Margery,  with  a  comical  little  shrug, 
"we  diverge,  as  the  novels  say."  Then,  suddenly 
changing  her  manner,  "Kate  Standish,  you  shall  not 
look  at  me  that  way.  You  are  absolutely  scowling. 
All  this  fuss  because  you  saw  a  good,  rich  old  church- 
member  help  me  off  the  train.  It  is  absurd." 

"  He  is  not  old.  He  is  not  over  thirty,"  replied  the 
other,  severely.  "  His  riches  we  have  nothing  to  do 
with." 

"  No,  I  wish  we  had,"  said  Margei-y,  mutinously. 

"  And  we  have  no  idea  whether  he  is  good  or  not." 

"Did  you  ever  see  him  smile?" 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  Well,  I  have,  and  I  know  he  is  good.  He  is  the 
very  man  who  helped  me  with  my  packages  that  time 
a  few  weeks  ago  when  I  was  so  nearly  run  over." 

"  And  he  scraped  acquaintance  with  you  on  that 
slight  pretext !  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  exclaimed  Margery,  with  desperate 
gayety,  "  and  we  laughed  and  chatted  all  the  way  in 
from  W ,  and  we  have  promised  to  correspond! 


24  NEXT  DOOR. 

and  I  am  going  to  the  theatre  with  him  next  week, 
and—" 

"  Margery ! " 

"He  looks  like  that  kind  of  man,  doesn't  he?"  con- 
tinued the  girl,  dropping  into  a  severe  tone.  "  That 
is  what  I  find  fault  with  you  for,  Kate.  You  are  too 
suspicious.  Of  course  I  should  have  told  you  the 
whole  state  of  the  case  when  I  first  came  in,  if  you 
hadn't  looked  so  portentously,  aggravatingly  solemn 
and  suspicious.  You  ought  to  believe  me  innocent 
until  I  am  proved  guilty,  instead  of  vice  versa.  You 
ought  to  have  an  unshakable  confidence  in  me,"  pur- 
sued Margery,  with  dignity.  "  For  instance,  if  I  tell 
you  that  I  stayed  out  on  the  back  platform  of  the 
train  with  Mr.  Exton  all  the  way  in"  —  here  Kate 
evidently  became  rigidly  apprehensive  —  "  you  ought 
be  entirely  undisturbed." 

"  You  didn't,  Margery ! " 

"Yes,  I  did.  If  I  tell  you  that  he  lent  me  his 
muffler,  and  held  me  by  the  arm,  you  ought  to  look  — 
well,  exactly  opposite  in  every  respect  to  what  you  do 
now.  Shall  I  throw  some  water  in  your  face  ?  If  I 
tell  you  that  we  kept  out  of  sight  and  didn't  pay  a 
cent  of  fare  —  yes,  really,  that  we  stole  a  ride  —  " 

"  Margery,  there  is  some  explanation  ! " 

"  Oh,  you  really  think  so  ?  That  is  what  you  ought 
to  have  thought  in  the  first  place.  You  are  quite 
right."  And  Margery  condescendingly  gave  an  ao 
count  of  her  adventure,  ending  with  a  hearty  burst  o| 
laughter. 


KATE'S  THEOEIES.  25 

u  It  was  the  funniest  thing  in  life.  I  didn't  entirely 
realize  it  at  the  time  ;  and  now  you  see  how  wise  you 
were  to  snub  Mr.  Exton,  and  refuse  to  allow  him  to 
call." 

"  Does  any  gentleman  call  on  us  ?  " 

"  No,  and  none  ever  wanted  to  before,"  returned  the 
other,  bluntly  ;  "  I  mean  since  we  have  been  here." 

"Where  would  you  receive  him  if  he  were  to  come? 
I  cannot  picture  Mr.  Exton  in  Mrs.  Brown's  parlor,'' 
said  Kate,  with  a  little  scornful  smile. 

"  He  is  the  loveliest  man  I  ever  saw,"  said  Margery, 
irrelevantly  and  thoughtf  ully ;  "  not  handsome,  but  a 
thousand  times  better  than  that.  I  am  so  glad  he  be- 
friended me." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  he  will  be  more  likely  to  remember  me," 
was  the  naive  reply. 

"  He  will  not  remember  you,"  said  Kate,  coldly.  "  It 
is  not  probable  that  you  will  ever  see  him  again." 

"  It  will  not  be  my  fault  if  I  do  not.  I  shall  be  on 
the  lookout  for  him." 

"  You  will  be  very  foolish  if  you  think  about  him  at 
all.  You  are  practically  as  distantly  separated  from 
him  as  though  you  were  a  ragpicker." 

"  Oh,  now  you  are  talking  Madam  Sevrance." 

"  And  Madam  Sevrance  is  right." 

"Ah  me,  how  tiresome  you  make  the  world  between 
you,"  said  Margery,  wearily.  "  My  father  and  mother 
tf  ere  as  respectable  as  Mr.  Exton's." 

Kate  drew  nearer,  put  her  strong  young  arms  ai-ound 


20  NEXT   DOOR. 

her,  and  laid  her  cheek  tenderly  on  the  red-brown  hair. 
*'  It  is  not  that,  dear,"  she  said  ;  "  but  Mr.  Exton  is  of 
the  aristocracy  of  this  free  and  equal  land.  Profes- 
sional women  have  neither  time  nor  ability  to  mingle 
in  it." 

"Yes,  yes,  and  you  are  a  professional  woman  ;  and 
professional  women  are  often  courteously  received  in 
the  best  society,  but  always  with  a  proviso.  Their  in- 
tellects or  accomplishments  are  admired ;  but  they  are 
never  fully  and  freely  received,  nor  married  by  the 
swells  of  swelldom.  I  have  heard  it  all  often  enough," 
and  Margery  turned  impatiently  in  her  sister's  arms. 
"Dearest  Kate,"  with  a  sudden  affectionate  qualm, 
"  you  have  had  to  turn  professional  for  me." 

"  Professional  is  rather  a  big  word  for  it,  dear,"  and 
the  older  girl  smiled  down  with  a  world  of  love  upon 
the  face  on  her  breast.  "  Besides,  is  it  not  for  myself 
first  of  all?" 

"And  I  am  mean  enough  to  fume  over  my  part  of 
the  work.  Oh,  Kate,  I  do  hate  it  all ;  economizing,  and 
scrimping,  and  living  in  this  miserable  dark  hole ! " 
And  Margery  looked  contemptuously  around  the  little 
room,  with  its  unsightly  outlook  on  alleys  and  sheds. 

"  I  love  it,"  said  Kate,  fervently ;  "  for  it  is  ours,  and 
we  are  independent." 

"But  we  are  so  young,  and  want  so  much ;  and  we 
never  have  any  diversion ;  and  we  have  no  friends  of 
eny  account.  You  avoid  anybody  at  all  promising, 
iike  Mr.  Exton." 

"  For  our  own  good  and  happiness,  Margery.     The 


KATE'S  THEORIES.  27 

lime  may  come  when  all  that  sort  of  intercourse  will 
be  possible.  Now  it  is  impossible.  You  see  it  ?  " 

"  Dear  old  Kate !  I  wish  it  were  as  easy  for  me  to 
be  reconciled  to  it  as  it  is  for  you.  Why,  we  might  as 
well  be  dead  as  to  live  this  way,"  and  Margery  sat  up 
with  an  emphatic  gesture.  "  There  is  only  one  thing 
that  can  deliver  us,  and  that  is  for  one  of  us  to  marry 
an  immensely  rich  man ;  and  I  think  Mr.  Exton  would 
do.  He  is  pretty  old,  and  does  not  wear  a  mustache ; 
but  he  would  do." 

"  It  is  very  condescending  of  you  to  think  so,"  re- 
marked Kate. 

"In  fact  half  the  difficulty  is  surmounted  now." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  That  I  am  in  love  with  him,"  returned  Margery, 
calmly. 


.      CHAPTER  I\r. 

KITS'  TRAVELS. 

IT  was  on  a  clear,  bracing  morning  that  Aunt  Ann 
left  Cedarville.  It  was  not  only  a  momentous  move 
for  her,  but  it  affected  all  her  neighbors  to  such  an 
extent  that  the  depot  platform  was  well  filled  with 
mourners  of  all  ages.  Aunt  Ann  cheered  the  older 
ones  to  the  best  of  her  ability  with  hearty  words,  and 
silently  bestowed  peppermints  upon  the  children.  She 
even  had  a  bright  reply  for  the  village  croaker,  a  dis- 
mal widow,  who  gave  it  as  her  opinion  that  the  travel- 
ler would  "  surely  rue  the  day." 

"  I  ain't  one  to  look  back,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  firmly. 
"  I  expect  a  sight  of  trouble  wherever  I  am,  and  I 
propose  to  take  it  in  a  new  place ;  that's  all.  Perhaps 
I'll  be  pleasantly  surprised,  and  have  an  easier  time 
than  I  look  for;  though  I  should  hate  to  disappoint 
you,  Sister  Low,"  she  added,  with  a  cheerful  laugh,  to 
which  the  dismal  one  responded  with  a  groan. 

"  We  shall  miss  you  beyond  tellin',"  the  latter  ob. 
served,  with  increased  dolor.  t;  There  won't  be  nobody 
to  hope  for  the  best,  now  you're  gone." 

28 


KITS'   TRAVELS.  29 

"  Begin  yourself,  sister ;  begin  yourself.  Yon  never 
can  tell  what  you  can  do  till  you  try."  It  was  a  part- 
ing bit  of  advice ;  for  the  engine  appeared  around  the 
curve,  good-byes  were  exchanged,  and  the  beloved 
traveller  was  launched  upon  her  journey.  She  waved 
her  hand,  in  its  roomy  glove,  at  the  window,  as  the 
train  moved,  and  then  leaned  back  in  her  seat  with  a 
Bigh  of  relief.  She  had  nothing  to  regret  in  this 
break  in  the  monotony  of  her  life.  Her  house  was  in 
order,  and  left  in  safe  hands.  Her  trunk  she  had  her- 
self seen  lifted  upon  the  train.  Her  own  personal 
appearance  she  knew  to  be  the  height  of  respectability. 
She  was  arrayed  in  a  black  dress,  cloak,  bonnet,  and 
gloves,  with  a  pale  mink  collar,  having  tabs  down  the 
front,  from  which  depended  six  tails.  Her  muff  waa 
of  the  same  ;  and  on  her  arm  hung  a  spacious  covered! 
black  basket.  This  she  now  took  carefully  in  her  lap, 
and  eyed  with  a  new  expression  of  anxiety.  As  the 
basket,  however,  presented  nothing  suspicious  in  its 
appearance,  but  continued  to  repose  lifelessly  upon  the 
inink-tails,  she  relaxed  her  gaze,  and  began  to  look 
with  interest  upon  her  surroundings.  She  found 
plenty  to  excite  her  wonder  and  admiration.  Her  in- 
terest in  mirrors  and  plush  had  not  yet  subsided  when 
the  conductor  made  his  appearance.  Although  Aunt 
Ann  usually  felt  the  most  placid  indifference  to  the 
male  sex,  the  sight  of  this  good-looking  functionary 
strangely  perturbed  her.  Her  heart  leaped  in  lief 
bosom,  and  unconsciously  she  braced  herself. 

She  gave  him  her  ticket  with  a  hand  whose  tren* 


80  NEXT  DOOR. 

bling  she  on  iy  hoped  he  would  not  observe ;  and  at  the 
same  unhappy  moment  the  cover  of  the  basket  up- 
heaved in  a  manner  as  mysterious  as  it  was  unmistak- 
able. 

"  Ahem,"  said  the  conductor,  fixing  sharp  eyes  upon 
it.  "  A  pretty  big  lunch-basket  you  have  there." 

"Yes,"  replied  Aunt  Ann,  folding  her  hands  convul- 
sively upon  it ;  "I  have  a  good,  healthy  appetite,  thank 
you,  sir." 

"Madam,  I  am  obliged  to  ask  you  what  you  have  in 
that  basket." 

Aunt  Ann  met  his  gaze  with  one  which  was  stonily 
firm,  although  desperate. 

"  Fur,"  she  replied. 

"Fur?"  and  the  conductor  smiled  broadly,  upon 
which  Aunt  Ann  took  encouragement. 

"Yes,  young  man,"  she  said,  with  a  pleading  look 
that  would  have  melted  an  ogre,  "  very  valuable  fur, 
that  I  wouldn't  be  separated  from  for  any  money." 

"  Well,  mind  it  stays  in  the  basket,  or  else  I  shall 
have  to  call  around  again,"  and  the  conductor  passed 
on,  pursued  by  Aunt  Ann's  benedictions. 

"How  could  you,  Kits,"  she  exclaimed,  reproach- 
fully, with  her  lips  close  to  the  wicker.  "I've  most 
got  a  chill,  I  was  so  scared ;  after  all  the  lessons  you've 
had,  too,  and  the  hours  I've  spent  carting  you  around 
in  this  basket.  Oh,  how  shall  we  ever  get  through  the 
day!" 

Still,  on  the  whole,  Kits  redeemed  his  character. 
Once  or  twice  he  uttered  an  audible  protest  against  thi 


KITS'  TRAVELS.  31 

Unprecedented  length  of  his  imprisonment;  and  at 
nuch  times  Aunt  Ann  would  clear  her  throat  with 
astounding  suddenness  and  loudness,  or  hum  a  few 
measures  of  "  Silver  Street." 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  her  when  finally  Boston  was 
reached.  Before  the  train  stopped,  a  very  good-look- 
ing and  exquisitely  attired  young  man  boarded  it,  and 
made  a  tour  of  the  cars,  evidently  in  search  of  some  one.. 
It  was  quite  as  much  of  an  astonishment  to  Aunt  Ann 
as  to  her  fellow-passengers  to  see  such  a  "glass  of  fash- 
ion and  mould  of  form  "  pause  in  the  aisle  beside  her. 
She  looked  up,  and  met  a  pair  of  brown  eyes  that  fairly 
laughed  as  they  met  hers,  and  a  strangely  familiar 
smile,  only  altered  by  a  youthful,  daintily  pointed 
mustache.  The  apparition  raised  his  hat. 

"Aunt  Ann,  aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself?  You 
don't  know  me." 

Aunt  Ann  drew  her  head  back  with  a  jerk;  and  the 
corners  of  her  lips  twitched  down. 

"  Why,  you  rascal ! "  she  exclaimed,  holding  out  her 
hand,  "  I  do  believe  it's  you." 

"  I  believe  so,"  replied  the  new-comer,  laughing  and 
shaking  her  hand. 

"  How  you  have  grown ! "  pursued  Aunt  Ann,  in 
delighted  admiration,  surveying  the  well-proportioned 
figure. 

kt  Well,  don't  tell  people  that  aren't  interested,"  re- 
turned Ray,  flushing  at  the  distinct  compliment,  and 
aware  of  their  neighbors'  attention.  "Let  me  take 
rour  basket." 


82  NEXT  DOOR. 

Aunt  Ann  compressed  her  lips,  and  gave  him  a  pro 
fligious  wink,  but  refused  his  offer. 

"  Why  ?     Contraband  goods  ?  " 
)     "  Hush-sh  !  " 

Fortunately  the  train  now  came  to  a  final  stop;  and 
Aunt  Ann,  hugging  the  basket,  followed  her  escort  out 
upon  the  platform.  A  hackman,  who  had  evidently 
been  told  to  await  them,  touched  his  hat,  and  went  out 
to  his  carriage. 

By  the  way,  nowhere  does  Boston's  boasted  culture 
show  itself  more  refreshingly  than  in  the  behavior  of 
her  hackmen,  who  stand  unique  among  their  kind  ;  a 
quiet,  restful  contrast  to  their  brethren,  the  howling, 
shrieking  mob  that  infests  the  depots  of  other  cities, 
and  distracts  the  weary  traveller.  From  the  depths  of 
a  grateful  heart  I  say,  Blessings  upon  Boston  hackmen  ! 

Aunt  Ann  sank  into  the  cushioned  seat  of  the  car- 
riage as  into  the  lap  of  luxury. 

"  Ray,  this  is  extravagance,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh ; 
«  but  I  am  beat." 

"  We  want  to  treat  yon  well,  so  you'll  stay  with  us," 
replied  the  young  man,  who  possibly  might  have  been 
conscious  of  a  desire  to  conceal  his  unmistakably 
country  friend  from  public  gaze.  Certainly  no  squeam- 
ishness  of  that  sort  appeared  in  his  manner,  which  was 
hearty  and  affectionate,  while  a  light  of  amusement 
Aanced  in  his  eyes  whenever  they  fell  upon  his  com- 
panion. 

"  Come,  now,  Aunt  Ann,  at  least  put  your  bnsket 
over  on  the  other  seat.  No  wonder  you  are  tired." 


KITS     TIIAVELS.  33 

"No  wonder,  indeed,"  replied  the  other,  emphatic" 
ally.  "  I  would  rather  do  a  day's  washing  than  sit  in 
state  on  velvet,  as  I  have  to-day,  with  such  a  load 
on  —  " 

"Your  lap?" 

"  No,  sir,  my  mind.  Ray  Ingalls,  look  me  in  the 
eye.  Kits  is  in  this  basket." 

"  Old  Kits !     Good  enough,"  laughed  Ray. 

"  I  don't  think,  Ray," —  and  Aunt  Ann's  head  fell  on 
the  side,  and  she  took  a  cajoling  tone,  —  "I  don't  think 
you  ever  really  hurt  Kits." 

"  Hurt  him !  Of  course  not.  Why,  Kits  just  dotes 
on  me.  Let's  have  him  out.  Come  on,  old  fellow." 

"No,  no.  Hands  off,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Ann,  hold- 
ing down  the  lid  firmly.  "Wait  till  we  get— -there." 

"Home;  say  home,  Aunt  Ann.  It  will  be  a  home 
when  you  are  settled  in  it.  I  confess  it  isn't  much 
like  it  now." 

"Tell  me  all  about  it.  How  many  are  there  of 
you?" 

"Four.  There's  Herring,  a  dry  old  fellow  that  1 
didn't  want  around,  but  Uncle  John  did,  so  he  had  to 
come.  Then  there's  Sharp,  figure  of  a  telegraph  pole 
but  first-rate  fellow ;  and  Wiley,  a  widower,  some  rela- 
tion to  Kits  I  think,  by  the  way  he  steps  around  ;  and 
your  humble  servant.  You  might  set  your  cap  for 
Wiley,  Aunt  Ann ;  gray  and  respectable,  you  know. 
He's  in  the  office." 

"  And  your  Uncle  John,"  added  Aunt  Ann,  in  hei 
earnestness  passing  over  Ra}''s  tjuggestion. 


84  NEXT   DOOR. 

"Oh,  no,  Uncle  John  doesn't  live  with  us.  He  re« 
sides  with  his  parents  in  the  city  —  or  rather  with  one 
parent,  he  hasn't  any  father." 

"  So  Uncle  John  isn't  going  to  live  with  you,"  said 
Aunt  Ann  in  dismay,  half  reaching  out  for  her  basket, 
as  though  minded  to  fly  without  further  parley  from 
the  responsible  position  in  which  she  saw  herself 
placed. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  ?  You  look  blank.  You 
hadn't  set  your  heart  on  Uncle  John,  had  you?" 

"  You  are  with  him  all  day,  you  say  ? "  questioned 
Aunt  Ann  sternly. 

"Of  course,  off  and  on,"  returned  Ray,  mystified. 
"What  in  the  world  is  the  matter? " 

"  The  matter  is  that  I  won't  have  the  responsibility 
of  you,  Ray  Ingalls.  I'll  feed  you,  and  that's  all  I'll 
do." 

Ray  burst  into  a  laugh  so  hearty  that  the  basket  lid 
upheaved  dangerously  in  Kits'  desire  to  know  what 
was  going  on.  Aunt  Ann  repressed  it  with  many  a 
soothing  word. 

"  It's  a  bargain,"  said  the  young  man  gayly.  "  Now, 
don't  forget.  You  are  to  ignore  everything  about  me 
but  my  appetite.  I  see  you  remember  me  as  fondly  as 
I  could  have  wished.  We  are  nearly  there,"  he  added, 
in  a  more  serious  tone.  "I'm  really  afraid  you  will  be 
a  little  bit  homesick  at  first,  but  you  mustn't  give  way 
to  it.  You  will  get  used  to  no  front  yard,  and  all  that, 
after  a  little.  You  see  we  had  to  take  a  house  in  a 
block,  and  in  a  very  unpretending  street,  to  make  it 


KITS'  TRAVELS.  35 

agree  with  the  finances  of  all  concerned  ;  but  the  horse- 
cars  run  by  the  door,  and  it  is  convenient  to  business, 
and  there  are  bedrooms  enough,  which  was  the  great 
thing." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  in  ?  " 

"  Only  three  days,  but  that  has  been  long  enough, 
taking  our  meals  at  restaurants.  I  tell  you,  Aunt  Ann, 
if  you  want  to  see  four  men  of  assorted  sizes  and  ages 
on  their  knees  to  you  this  evening,  you  have  only  to 
make  a  c\\p  of  your  coffee  for  them.  Here  we  are,"  as 
the  carriage  drew  up  to  the  curbstone  "  Let  me  take 
;  1  '11  treat  him  like  glassware." 


CHAPTER  V. 

AUNT  ANN'S  SHOPPING. 

No  wonder  Aunt  Ann  slept  but  pooily  the  first 
night  in  her  new  surroundings,  although  neither  home- 
sickness  nor  dissatisfaction  had  any  part  in  her  restless- 
ness. Ray's  prophecy  as  to  the  effect  on  her  family 
of  the  new  housekeeper's  coffee  proved  scarcely  an 
exaggeration. 

Mr.  Herring's  sour  visage  unpuckered  under  the 
aromatic  influence  as,  at  Aunt  Ann's  suggestion,  the 
gentlemen  sat  about  their  dining-table  the  last  thing 
before  going  to  bed.  Mr.  Wiley's  placid  countenance 
became  still  blander  in  expression  as  he  sipped,  and 
Sharp,  a  young  man  very  tall  and  rather  slender,  ex- 
claimed as  he  finished  his  cup  and  Aunt  Ann  left  the 
room,  **  That  is  a  woman  that  I  could  love." 

Ray  meanwhile  drank  his  coffee  with  an  air  which 
said  plainer  than  any  words,  "  I  told  you  so." 

"  Baby,  you're  a  brick,"  cried  Mr.  Sharp,  wringing 
Ray's  hand  with  cumulative  delight.  "You  deserve 
well  of  your  country,  and  you  shall  have  a  new  rattle 
to-morrow." 

86 


AUNT   ANN'S   SHOPPING.  37 

"Yes,"  added  Mr.  Wiley  with  :i  pleased  smile,  "our 
youngest  has  not  deceived  us.  I  feel  convinced  that 
he  has  kept  his  word  nobly." 

But  in  spite  of  the  many  kind  words  showered  upon 
her,  and  the  benevolent  glow  of  satisfaction  that 
warmed  her  kind  breast  at  the  prospect  of  making  her 
fellow-beings  comfortable,  Aunt  Ann  did  not  sleep 
well  that  first  night.  She  missed  her  own  familiar 
bed,  the  horse-cars  thundered  and  jingled  upon  her  un- 
sophisticated ear.  The  night  seemed  to  her  scarcely 
begun  before  morning  was  heralded  by  the  myriad 
noises  of  the  city  streets ;  and  when,  very  early,  a  faint 
scratch  was  heard  on  her  door,  she  answered  the  call 
with  alacrity. 

"  Come  right  in,  Kits,  and  mew  as  loud  as  ever 
you've  a  mind  to,"  she  said.     "  I  should  like  to  hear  a 
familiar  sound.     I  suppose  you  haven't  slept  a  wink 
either.     Why,  what  ails  you,  poor  thing?  has  the  jour- 
ney and  trying  to  sleep  in  Babel  upset  your  poor  wits? 
I  shouldn't  wonder."     For  Kits  was  running  to  his 
mistress  and  then  back   to   the   door,   repeating   the 
movement  again  and  again  in  great  excitement.     Ann' 
Ann  put  on  her  spectacles  finally,  and  followed  her  pt 
to  the  threshold,  where  she  suddenly  jumped  back,  ut 
tering  a  wild  shriek,  and  then  paused,  appalled  at  ho 
own  indiscretion. 

Ray,  whose  room  happened  to  be  next,  thrust  hi 
head  out  into  the  hall.     "  Aunt  Ann,  Aunt  Ann,  what 
is  it?" 

"  Oh,  Ray,  do  excuse  me.     I  hope  all  the  gentlemen 


38  NEXT   DOOR. 

will  excuse  me  ;  but  Kits  has  caught  the  most  tremen- 
jious  rat,  and  he's  brought  it  right  to  my  door." 

44  Good  for  Kits.  Let  it  stay  there,  Aunt  Ann.  I'll 
see  to  it  later,"  and  the  speaker  drew  his  head  in,  and 
silence  reigned  again  within  the  house. 

Aunt  Ann  shook  her  finger  at  her  favorite  as  she 
noiselessly  closed  the  door.  "Kits  Eaton,"  she  said, 
softly  but  sternly,  "  the  nex-t  time  you  bring  one  of 
them  dirty  critters  to  me  I'll  see  to  you  with  a  switch." 

Kits  winked  his  golden  eyes  slowly,  licked  his  chops, 
and  waved  his  tail  in  long  sweeps,  looking  like  the 
graceful  little  tiger  that  he  was.  He  mewed  restlessly 
at  the  door,  unwilling  to  be  separated  so  soon  from 
his  prey,  and  Aunt  Ann  looked  at  the  open-faced  silver 
watch  which  had  been  her  father's. 

44  Well,  the  days  are  short.  It  is  high  time  I  was 
down  stairs,"  she  observed,  with  satisfaction.  "  I  won- 
der if  Rosalie  is  up  yet."  Rosalie  was  the  laundress, 
waitress,  and  chambermaid,  whom  Aunt  Ann  had 
advised  Ray  to  engage  before  her  arrival.  She  would 
do  all  the  cooking  herself. 

The  procession  that  was  made  down  stairs  by  Aunt 
Ann,  Kits,  and  the  rat,  would  have  convulsed  Ray  if 
he  had  been  a  witness  to  it.  Most  willingly  would 
Aunt  Ann  have  embraced  Ray's  offer  to  attend  later 
to  Kits'  trophy,  but  Kits  himself  proudly  picked  ii[> 
his  prey,  over  which  Aunt  Ann  had  stepped  gingerly, 
and  followed  her.  She  turned  at  the  head  of  the  stair- 
case, and  beheld  him  with  disgust  and  dismay,  even 
tapping  him  on  the  head,  in  the  hope  of  making  him 


AUNT   ANN'S    SHOPPING.  39 

drop  his  burden ;  but  as  she  feared  disturbing  her  fam- 
ily by  making  a  sound,  and  as  Kits  paid  no  attention 
to  pantomime,  she  was  fain  to  proceed  down  backward, 
the  cat  dropping  lightly  from  stair  to  stair,  following 
her  slow  movements,  and  she  quite  as  anxious  now 
that  he  should  not  let  go  his  hold  as  she  had  wished 
him  before  to  do  so.  With  sundry  encouraging  pats 
and  murmurs  the  descent  was  finally  accomplished, 
and  Aunt  Ann  noiselessly  opened  the  front  door,  out 
of  which  the  cat  sprang  daintily,  depositing  the  rat  on 
the  upper  step.  Aunt  Ann  threatened  and  coaxed  in 
vain  ;  Kits  would  do  no  more. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said  at  last,  her  cheeks  red  from 
the  conflict,  "you  disgrace  us  the  very  first  morning 
we  are  here  ;  I  have  no  more  to  say  to  you,  sir." 

But  Aunt  Ann's  family  did  not  agree  with  her. 
When  they  came  down  to  breakfast,  one  and  all 
remarked  admiringly  upon  Kits'  prowess,  and  pro- 
fessed delight  at  the  fact  of  having  such  a  valuable 
animal  in  the  house.  Perhaps  the  perfection  of  Aunt 
Ann's  rolls,  the  delicate  brown  of  the  potatoes,  and 
the  absence  of  scorched  spots  on  the  beefsteak,  added 
lustre  to  the  attractions  of  the  housekeeper's  favorite. 
However,  whether  the  comments  were  sincere  or  no, 
ihej"  pleased  Kits'  mistress,  who  was  a  comfortable  fig- 
ure at  the  head  of  the  table,  in  her  clean  calico  dress, 
and  the  black  satin  bow  which,  between  the  hours  of 
half-past  six  and  twelve,  always  concealed  Aunt  Ann's 
bald  spot,  a  very  small  bald  spot,  from  a  prying  world. 
Kits  slumbered  as  peacefully  beside  the  air-tight  stove 


40  NEXT  DOOR. 

as  he  ever  had  done  before  the  open  fire  at  home ;  all 
the  faces  about  the  table  beamed  contentedly  in  unac- 
customed comfort,  and  Rosalie,  a  hard-featured  maiden 
of  uncertain  age,  waited  deftly,  if  severely.  Rosalie 
disapproved  of  everything  on  principle,  but  Rosalie 
was  not  blind  to  her  own  interests;  and  in  one  or  two 
light  skirmishes  in  the  kitchen,  this  morning,  she  had 
discovered  that  it  would  not  be  best  for  her  to  disaj>- 
prove  too  strongly  of  cats.  The  discovery  had  not 
sweetened  her  disposition,  but  nobody  took  any  notice 
of  her.  Aunt  Ann  was  cheerfulness  itself,  and  pressed 
the  good  things  of  life  upon  the  gentlemen  with  the 
most  natural  hospitality.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  they 
were  charmed  with  her,  and,  after  the  others  had  gone 
to  business,  Ray  lingered  behind  to  tell  her  so. 

"They're  all  broken  up,"  he  declared,  ingenuously. 
"Now,  which  shall  it  be,  Herring  or  Wiley?  I  don't 
think  Herring  is  the  elder,  although  he  has  that  dried- 

O  '  O 

up,  brittle  appearance ;  buf,  I  forgot,  it  is  Uncle  John 
that  you  want  to  see.  I'll  get  him  to  come  around." 

"  Yes,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  placidly,  "  I  should  be  happy 
to  see  him  ;  but  we  won't  trouble  to  send  for  him  until 
you  make  me  anxious,  Ray.  If  you  should  do  any- 
thing  to  make  me  anxious,  I  should  want  to  see  him 
right  off." 

"What  do  you  expect  I  am  going  to  do?"  said  the 
boy,  laughing,  and  lifting  the  points  of  his  tiny  mus* 
tache.  "Oh,  by  the  way,  what  about  those  nieces  you 
mentioned  in  your  letter  ?  " 

Aunt  Ann  shook  her  head,  and  smiled.     "  I  don't 


AUNT  ANN'S  SHOPPING.  41 


know  what  <ibo*i,  elifcrn  \ci,.     1  mean  to  find  .out  to- 
day." 

"  Are  they  pretty  f  " 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Aunt  Ann.  "I  haven't 
seen  them  since  they  were  very  young.  They  are  good 
us  gold,  dear  children." 

"  You'll  have  them  here,  won't  you,  Aunt  Ann?  We 
Would  all  try  to  make  it  pleasant,  you  know.  I  am  not 
much  acquainted  in  the  city  myself." 

"  A  very  good  idea,"  replied  the  other,  nodding,  with 
a  kind,  thoughtful  expression  in  her  eyes.  "I  don't 
believe  they  have  much  pleasure.  It  would  sort  of 
chirk  'em  up,  wouldn't  it?" 

"Of  course  it  would.     How  old  are  they?" 

"  Eighteen  and  twenty-one." 

"  Oh,  I'll  help  you  chirk  them  up,  with  the  greatest 
pleasure  in  life." 

"  You  always  were  a  kind-hearted  boy,  Ray  "  ;  and, 
with  the  grateful  tone  ringing  in  his  ears,  Kay  set  off 
for  the  office,  whistling  an  air  from  "  Fatinitza  "  ;  while 
Aunt  Ann  transferred  her  attention  to  the  blue  ribbon 
about  Kits'  neck. 

"You  got  those  smuts  out  in  the  back  yard  this 
morning,"  she  mused.  "  There  isn't  any  use  in  hesi- 
tating. It  would  be  sinful  luxury  to  keep  you  in  blue 
this  winter.  I'll  put  on  my  things  right  off,  and  go 
out  and  buy  some  gray  ribbon,  and  afterward  I  can  go 
and  see  the  girls." 

•  So  Aunt  Ann,  after  attending  to  sundry  housekeep- 
ing cares,  changed  hei    dress,  and,  getting  a  few  grin 


42  NEXT  DOOR. 

directions  from  Rosalie  as  to  the  way  to  reach  tho 
shopping-ground,  bade  good-bye  to  Kits,  and  set 
forth. 

She  was  delighted  with  the  convenience  of  taking 
the  car  at  her  door,  and  being  conveyed  to  her  des- 
tination. 

"  I  shall  be  getting  lazy  presently,"  she  imised,  with 
a  pleased  smile,  giving  the  conductor  a  signal  to  stop 
as  soon  as  her  eyes  fell  upon  a  thronged  business  street- 
She  entered  a  large,  attractive  store,  and  was  ushered 
to  the  ribbon  counter.  Here  she  soon  became  absorbed 
in  consideration  of  the  various  shades  of  gray.  There 
was  a  puzzling  variety.  She  re-adjusted  her  specta- 
cles repeatedly,  ai.  i  frowned  perplexedly.  There  was 
some  one  next  her  examining  a  box  of  remnants. 
Aunt  Ann  glanced  up  over  her  glasses,  and  seeing  a 
pretty  girl,  plainly  dressed,  appealed  to  her. 

"  Won't  you  be  good  enougli  to  help  me  decide  some- 
thing?" she  said ;  and  the  girl  looked  around  and  saw 
an  elderly  person,  with  a  bolt  of  gray  ribbon  in  each 
hand,  gazing  at  her  earnestly  through  steel-bowed  spec- 
tacles. 

"Certainly;  what  is  it?"  she  asked,  brightly. 

"I  ought  to  have  brought  a  lock  of  his  fur,"  ob- 
served Aunt  Ann,  explanatorily,  "and  yet  I  don't 
know  where  he  could  have  spared  it.  It's  malty  color. 
Which  of  these  do  you  think  would  match  best?" 

"Malty  color?"  repeated  the  girl,  faintly. 

"  Yes,  it's  for  a  malty  cat.  He's  very  hard  on  neck 
ribbons,  and  I  thought  coming  to  the  city,  where  it'i 


AUNT  ANN'S  SHOPPING.  43 

dirty  at  best,  that  a  gray  necktie  would  be  the  most 
durable,  and  yet  Kits  could  feel  as  genteel  as  ever." 

"  I  should  think  it  a  very  good  idea,"  said  the  girl, 
smiling,  while  her  color  stole  up  and  her  eyes  twinkled, 
"and  it  seems  to  me  that  shade,"  designating  the  one 
in  Aunt  Ann's  right  hand,  "  would  be  best." 

"  Just  what  I  thought,  but  I  was  n't  sure,"  replied 
the  other,  with  deep  satisfaction.  She  paid  for  the 
bolt  of  ribbon  and  then  turned  again  to  her  neighbor. 
"  I  want  to  ask  one  more  question,"  she  said,  taking  a 
slip  of  paper  from  her  purse.  "  Will  you  tell  me  what 
car  I  take  to  go  to  No.  506  Berkshire  Street  ?  " 

"Is  it  a  boarding-house  ?"  asked  the  girl,  looking 
slightly  surprised. 

"  Yes,  just  so,  just  so,  it 's  a  boarding-house,"  replied 
Aunt  Ann,  nodding  eagerly. 

"  I  am  going  there  myself.  I  shall  be  happy  to  show 
you  the  way." 

"  Well,  now,  that 's  great  luck  for  me,"  said  Aunt 
Ann,  beaming,  "and  you're  very  obliging,  I  'm  sure." 

So  saying,  she  followed  her  guide  out  of  the  store, 
casting  many  a  lingering  look  to  the  right  and  left  at 
the  beautiful  and  tempting  fabrics  displayed  upon  the 
counters 

"  Should  n't  wonder  if  I  came  down  every  day  to 
stare,"  she  thought,  anticipating  with  still  greater  ela- 
tion all  that  was  open  to  her  to  see  and  to  do  in  the 
wonderful  city  during  the  winter. 


CHAPTER  VL 

KATE  AND  MARGERY. 

THE  horse-car  made  too  much  noise  to  admit  of 
conversation  with  a  stranger,  but  Aunt  Ann  was  more 
than  content  to  gaze  out  the  window,  full  of  interest 
in  every  novel  sight.  Her  pretty  companion  finally 
stopped  the  car  before  a  row  of  brick  houses,  and  led 
the  way  out.  Aunt  Ann  followed  her  slowly  up  a 
flight  of  steps,  and  the  young  girl  paused  at  the  door. 

"Whom  do  you  wish  to  see?"  she  asked  politely. 
KI  will  carry  word." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear;  I  want  to  see  Miss  Standish." 

"  Shall  I  give  her  your  name  ?  " 

"  Yes,  please.     Say  Miss  Eaton  from  Cedarville." 

The  young  girl  started  and  looked  in  wide-eyed 
amazement.  "  Why,  Aunt  Ann,  is  it  you  ? "  she 
cried. 

"Mercy  on  us,  you  ain't  Kate!"  exclaimed  the 
other,  in  incredulous  delight. 

"No,  but  I'm  Margery,"  replied  the  girl,  a  little 
disturbed  at  finding  herself  related  to  the  mink-tails, 
which  she  had  eyed  mischievously  all  the  way  up  in 

44 


KATE   AND   MARGERY.  4"5 

the  car.  But  she  submitted  gracefully  to  the  loving 
embrace  with  which  Aunt  Ann  immediately  saluted 
her. 

"  Come  right  up  stairs,"  she  added  heartily,  leading 
the  way,  "  Kate  will  be  delighted." 

And  before  the  eudden  tears  had  dried  on  Aunt 
Ann's  cheek,  more  followed  as  she  held  her  sister's 
first-born  in  her  arms. 

"Emma's  children,"  she  repeated  lovingly,  again 
and  again,  as  she  held  the  two  girls  out  at  arm's  length 
and  scrutinized  them. 

"  Kate,  you  look  like  her,  my  love,  you  look  like  her. 
My  poor  dear  little  Emma ! " 

"Why  did  you  not  let  us  expect  you?"  said  Kate, 
when  all  three  were  at  last  seated  quietly.  "  We 
received  the  letter  telling  of  your  proposed  move,  but 
you  did  not  say  when  you  should  arrive." 

"I  didn't  think  to,"  replied  Aunt  Ann,  simply. 
"Of  course  I  meant  to  come  and  see  you  the  very 
first  thing.  I  only  got  into  Boston  last  night." 

"Does  your  plan  for  the  winter  promise  well?" 

"It  does  seem  to.  They  acted  real  comfortable  this 
morning  when  they  went  to  work,"  and  Aunt  Ann 
laughed  silently. 

"And  does  it  not  seem  odd,"  asked  Margery,  with 
interest,  "  to  be  the  only  lady  at  the  table  with  a  lot 
of  strange  men  ?  " 

"  There's  only  four  of  them." 

"What  are  they  like?"  pursued  Margery. 

"  There'b  a  bachelor,  and  a  widower,  and  a  young 


46  NEXT   DOOR. 

man,  and  a  boy.  The  boy  is  Ray  Ingalls,  who  was  at 
our  house  with  his  mother  one  whole  summer.  She's 
died  since.  He  is  the  one  that  got  me  to  come.  No, 
I  don't  see  as  there's  anything  odd  about  it.  They 
are  going  to  pay  me  to  make  them  comfortable,  and 
I'm  going  to  get  a  chance  to  see  the  city  and  have  a 
change,  and  get  acquainted  with  my  nieces,"  and  Aunt 
Ann  smiled  lovingly  on  the  girls,  looking  from  one 
to  the  other  with  much  repressed  admiration.  She 
thought  of  Ray's  inquiry  regarding  their  looks. 

"  Wait  till  he  sees  them,"  was  her  triumphant  men- 
tal comment. 

"  Now  tell  me  all  about  it,  Kate,"  she  said,  with  sud- 
den seriousness.  "I  don't  know  hardly  anything.  I 
never  saw  your  mother  but  once  after  her  marriage. 
It  was  a  constant  heartbreak  to  her,  longing  for  her 

/  o      o 

own  folks.  I  always  knew  it,  though  her  letters  were 
guarded.  Your  father  was  a  proud  man  and  a  hard 
man.  You  mustn't  mind  my  saying  so." 

"  He  was  not  so  to  us,"  replied  Kate,  gravely,  "  but 
I  fear  my  mother  was  unhappy.  I  was  too  young  to 
be  her  confidante.  Our  father's  prosperity  seemed  to 
die  with  her.  He  gradually  lost  his  money  in  unsuc- 
cessful ventures,  and  died  a  poor  man.  After  he  had 
gone  I  kept  Margery  at  school  one  year  longer,  but 
dared  do  no  more  as  we  had  so  little.  You  know  the 
rest.  We  found  this  room  ;  my  singing  teacher,  a 
woman  of  great  influence  in  certain  circles,  insisted 
upon  continuing  my  lessons,  and  put  me  in  the  way  of 
yarning  a  little  income,  which  keeps  us  comfortable." 


KATE   AND  MARGERY.  47 

"I  do  not  do  anything,  Aunt  Ann,  and  Kate  won't 
let  me,"  said  Margery,  bluntly. 

"Margery  does  just  as  much  as  I  do.  She  takes 
care  of  everything  here,  makes  our  clothes  and  keeps 
them  in  order,  and  is  such  a  bright  companion  that  I 
think  I  could  not  live  without  her." 

Aunt  Ann  looked  from  Kate's  calm,  beautiful  face, 
co  Margery's,  flushed  and  childish. 

"I  suppose  you  have  a  great  many  friends,"  she 
said,  "and  some  of  the  pleasures  that  young  folks 
have." 

Margery  started  impulsively  to  speak,  but  Kate  laid 
a  hand  on  hers  with  a  quieting  gesture,  and  replied : 

"  No.  Of  course  we  have  our  friends  at  W , 

where  we  were  at  school,  but  we  made  no  Boston 
friends  while  there.  By  the  time  I  graduated,  father 
had  left  New  York  and  come  here,  where  we  have 
always  lived  obscurely.  Margery  and  I  have  been  so 
alone  1  have  thought  it  very  unadvisable  to  make 
friendships  with  such  people  as  we  should  enjoy, 
because  of  the  impossibility  of  giving  as  much  as  we 
should  receive.  I  hope  you  agree  with  me,  Aunt  Ann, 
and  will  help  me  to  keep  Margery  contented." 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  latter,  mutinously.  "Aunt 
Ann  is  going  to  take  pity  on  me,  and  introduce  her 
young  man  and  boy  to  me,  and  have  me  to  dinner 
er/er  so  often." 

As  Aunt  Ann  saw  the  color  and  anxiety  creep  simul- 
taneously into  the  elder  girl's  face,  she  felt  a  guilty 
twinge,  thinking  of  her  conversation  of  the  morning 


48  NEXT  DOOR. 

with  Ray,  and  how  very  nearly  Margery's  random 
words  traced  the  programme  she  had  indeed  intended. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  addressing  Kate  with  mild 
uneasiness,  "  don't  you  think  there  is  danger  of  your 
getting  a  little  morbid  thinking  these  things  over? 
Seema  to  me  you  may  cut  off  Margery  and  yourself 
from  a  great  deal  of  innocent  pleasure." 

"That  is  what  I  tell  her,"  chimed  in  Margery, 
eagerly,  even  caressing  the  mink-tails  in  her  pleasure 
at  having  finally  found  an  ally.  "  It  is  Madam  Sev- 
ranee  that  has  confirmed  all  these  ideas  in  Kate.  She 
is  a  tall,  gray-haired  woman  who  thinks  she  is  the 
most  worldly-wise  creature  in  existence.  She  adores 
Kate  and  tolerates  me,  and  is  determined  to  protect  ue 
both.  I  wish  she  would  let  us  alone." 

Kate  brought  her  calm  smile  to  bear  on  this  out 
burst.  "Especially  when  she  takes  us  to  the  opera?" 
»he  suggested. 

"  No,  I  am  glad  we  get  two  or  three  operas  out  of 
her  during  the  season  ;  but  I  am  sure  she  owes  us 
something." 

"We  owe  her  everything,"  said  Kate,  slowly  arid 
distinctly. 

"I  do  not  ask  to  seek  friends,  Aunt  Ann,"  con- 
tinued Margery,  turning  to  her  new-found  relative, 
"but  when  people  meet  us,  and  wish  to  make  our 
acquaintance,  and  are  delightful  in  every  way,"  here 
she  fixed  Kate  with  reproachful  eyes,  "  I  think  Kate 
does  very  wrong  to  snub  them  and  freeze  them  and 
deprive  me  of  their  society." 


KATE  AND  MARGERY.  4^ 

"Perhaps  your  sister  makes  mistakes,"  said  Aunt 
Ann,  hesitating  a  little  before  her  elder  niece,  "  but  at 
any  rate  they  are  on  the  safe  side.  The  next  question 
of  that  sort  that  comes  up  you'd  better  agree  to  let 
your  old  aunt  from  the  country  have  a  word  to  say 
about  it." 

"  I  will  agree  to  that,"  said  Margery,  quickly. 

Kate  smiled  ;  a  little  inscrutable  smile  that  made  her 
Very  beautiful,  but  which  exasperated  her  junior 
beyond  bounds. 

"  But  Kate  won't,"  she  added  hotly,  after  the  little 
pause.  "  She  will  continue  on  her  calmly  superior 
course  and  keep  both  our  noses  down  to  the  grind- 
stone just  as  usual.  You  are  our  natural  protector, 
Aunt  Ann,  and  I  shall  take  your  advice." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  pacifically,  "you  are 
a  pair  of  good,  brave  girls,  and  everything  will  come 
out  right  for  you  in  the  end.  You  are  singing  in 
church,  you  said,  Kate." 

"  Yes,  I  was  very  fortunate  to  get  that  position." 

"  She  sings  like  an  angel.  Why  shouldn't  she  get 
any  position  she  wants  ? "  put  in  Margery,  with  her 
usual  abruptness. 

"  You  don't  say  so,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  with  interest. 
"  1  hope  it's  a  Congregationalist  Church." 

"No,  Episcopal." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Ann,  this 
time  sepulchrally. 

"  But  Margery  goes  to  our  own  church,  of  course 
5Tou  will  like  to  go  with  her." 


50  NEXT   DOCK. 

"  And  I  will  go  with  you  sometimes  to  Kate's 
church,"  said  Margery,  in  a  wheedling  tone.  "  You 
will  want  to  hear  her  sing,  and  I  want  to  see— tho 
congregation." 

"  My  dear,  that  would  be  but  a  worldly  Sabbath," 
said  Aunt  Ann,  reprovingly,  "  but  I  must  certainly 
hear  Kate  sing.  Her  mother  was  the  best  in  the 
choir  when  we  were  girls.  You,"  looking  about  the 
room,  "  you'd  ought  to  have  an  organ  here ;  but,'' 
with  a  sudden  brightening,  "  I  noticed  rny  folks  have 
got  a  piano  in  the  parlor,  and  we  can  have  all  the 
music  we  want." 

"  How  nice  ! "  cried  Margery,  but  Kate  shook  her 
head. 

"  You  had  better  do  the  visiting,  Aunt  Ann.  We 
can  do  pretty  well  here,  for  Margery  is  an  expert  on 
the  banjo." 

"  The  banjo ! "  repeated  Aunt  Ann,  in  horrified 
amazement.  "  What  under  the  living  canopy  made 
you  take  up  that  nigger-minstrel  thing?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  quite  fashionable,"  laughed  Margery. 
"  Kate  bought  it  for  me  on  my  birthday.  It  has 
employed  ever  so  many  of  my  spare  hours,  and 
just  wait  till  you  hear  Kate  sing  a  gay  little  song 
to  it." 

"  Mercy  on  us  ! "  exclaimed  Aunt  Ann,  with  a  start. 
"  I  could  sit  here  all  day  and  listen  to  you  girls,  and 
fenst  my  eyes  looking  at  you,  but  what'll  become  of 
Rosalie  and  the  house  and  the  dinner.  Rosalie's 
going  to  buy  it,  but  I've  got  to  cook  it." 


KATE   AND   MARGERY.  51 

"  I  don't  like  to  have  you  leave  us,  dear  Aunt  Ann," 
laid  Kate,  affectionately..  "I  shall  go  with  you  a 
little  way." 

"  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would,  for  I'm  greener 
than  any  punkin  yet,  though  I  shall  learn  my  way 
soon.  Good-bye,  Margery,"  and  Aunt  Ann  kissed  her 
younger  niece  with  a  loving  embrace.  "  I  shall  want 
to  see  you  both  every  day,  I'm  sure.  I'm  going  to  try 
to  fix  it  so  Kate  will  consent  to  your  doing  half  the 
visiting  any  way.  Good-bye,  dear,"  and  she  followed 
Kate  down  the  stairs. 

When  they  were  on  the  sidewalk,  Kate  slipped  her 
arm  through  that  of  her  aunt. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  did  not  happen  to  mention  up- 
stairs where  you  were  living,"  she  said,  as  they  stood 
waiting  for  a  car. 

Aunt  Ann  started.  "  Well,"  she  exclaimed,  "  it 
would  be  a  pretty  state  of  things  if  I  couldn't  men- 
tion it  now.  Kate,  my  dear  child,"  beginning  an  ex- 
cited fumbling  in  her  pocket,  "  it  just  comes  over  me 
that  I  haven't  the  least  idea  what  street  I  do  live  on. 
Stupid  critter  that  I  arn,  leaving  the  house  as  I  did 
this  morning  without  looking  around  me.  I've  no 
patience  with  myself.  But  that,"  pointing  to  an  ap- 
proaching horse-car,  "  is  the  same  colored  and  looking 
car  as  runs  by  our  house.  I've  got  the  number  and 
street  written  down,  and  if  it's  in  my  purse  I'm  all 
right,"  and  she  drew  forth  her  purse  and  searched  it 
nervously.  "  It  ain't  there,"  she  announced  at  last,  in 
ft  desperate  tone. 


62  NEXT  DOOR. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Kate,  soothingly,  "  if  you  are 
jure  these  are  the  right  cars  we  can  get  in  and  ride 
until  you  recognize  the  house." 

"  But  I  never  should,"  with  a  despairing  gesture ; 
"  it's  in  one  of  these  blocks  that  looks  all  alike. 
There  was  a  rat  on  the  upper  step  this  morning,  but 
Mr.  Sharp  took  it  off.  Oh,  I  ain't  fit  to  be  let  go 
loose.  I  need  a  keeper,"  and  Aunt  Ann  turned 
around  wildly.  In  the  midst  of  her  anxiety  a  large 
cat  sitting  in  a  neighboring  window  attracted  her 
attention.  "  There's  a  handsome  cat !  "  she  exclaimed, 
"most  as  handsome  as  Kits,"  she  continued,  admir- 
ingly. "  Why,"  in  blank  astonishment,  "  I  do  believe  — • 
Kate  Standish,  it  is  Kits.  Hold  me,  Kate,  I  believe 
I'm  dizzy.  That's  my  own  cat  and  my  own  house,  and 
I  live  next  door  to  you !  "  and  Aunt  Ann  sat  down  on 
the  steps  without  ceremony  and  laughed  immoderately. 

As  the  truth  dawned  upon  Kate,  she  joined  in  the 
laugh,  but  some  thought  turned  her  grave. 

*'  Do  you  think  it  would  be  possible  to  keep  it  from 
Margery?"  she  asked.  "If  she  knows  this  she  will 
be  running  in  and  out  at  all  hours." 

"Bless  her  heart,  why  shouldn't  she?"  returned 
Aunt  Ann,  wiping  her  eyes.  "  Well,  could  we  have 
asked  anything  better  than  this?"  she  added,  rising 
from  her  lowly  position.  Kate  looked  the  reverse  of 
grateful.  Her  brows  knit  themselves  in  the  effort  to 
decide  instantly  on  the  right  course. 

"  Walk  up  and  down  a  little,  Aunt  Ann,  you  arc 
pot  in  so  much  haste,  now,"  she  said,  offering  her  arm, 


KATE  AND  MARGERY  53 

"Why,  won't  you  come  in?"  returned  the  other, 
hospitably. 

"Not  just  now,  thank  you,"  replied  tlie  girl,  leading 
her  aunt  along  the  sidewalk.  "  I  want  to  talk  about 
Margery.  She  will  be  delighted  to  have  a  place  so 
near  where  she  can  run  in  informally.  You  see  how 
she  chafes  at  the  life  we  lead,  and  how  she  craves 
some  excitement.  I  do  not  like  the  idea  of  her  meet- 
ing these  strange  men,  of  whom  we  know  nothing." 

"Why,  Kate,-what  do  you  mean,  child?  I  know  a 
great  deal  more  of  Ray  Ingalls  than  I  do  of  you,  and 
his  mother  was  a  perfect  lady,  a  little  fussy  and 
pernickety,  but  a  refined  woman.  As  for  the  rest, 
they  were  every  one  picked  out  by  Uncle  John  him- 
self !  "  and  Aunt  Ann  looked  around  at  her  companion, 
triumphantly. 

"  Uncle  John !     What  Uncle  John  ? " 

"  Ray's.  He's  in  his  uncle's  office,  you  know.  What 
an  old  head  yours  is,  Kate,  to  be  on  such  young 
shoulders.  Why,  child,  it's  pitiful  to  see  you  so  strict 
and  caretaking  at  your  age.  You  ought  to  be  lighter- 
hearted." 

"I  am  light-hearted,  believe  me,"  returned  Kate, 
smiling,  "  excepting  when  Margery  is  unhappy." 

"  Well,  let  the  child  get  what  pleasure  she  can  with 
nie,  and  don't  worry  your  pretty  head." 

"  Oh,  wait  a  little,  wait  a  little.  Promise  me  to  keep 
your  home  a  secret,  if  possible,  for  a  week.  By  that 
time  you  will  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  your 
family ;  and  promise  me  one  thing  more,  —  *bat  voo 


54  NEXT  DOOR. 

Will  not  introduce  any  of  them  to  Margery  until  1  give 
you  permission." 

"Well,  well,"  and  Aunt  Ann  bridled  a  little,  "I 
flattered  myself  I  was  going  to  take  care  of  you  young 
people  when  I  got  here.  As  far  as  that  goes,  it  seems 
as  though  1  might  as  well  have  stayed  at  home." 

Kate  stood  still,  and  took  one  of  the  speaker's  hands 
as  she  faced  her.  "  You  would  not  say  that,  nor  be 
vexed,  if  you  knew  what  a  gratification  it  is  to  me  that 
you  have  come.  I  feel  more  respectable  and  less  iso- 
lated. I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  care,  and  it  is  natu- 
ral to  me  now  to  look  ahead  and  be  cautious.  You 
must  not  misunderstand  me  about  Margery.  She  is 
only  very  impulsive,  and  very  anxious  for  a  good  time, 
and  I  wish  to  shield  her  from  any  social  position  in 
which  she  would  not  have  been  placed  had  parents  and 
fortune  remained  to  us." 

Aunt  Ann  looked  into  the  earnest  face,  which  lit  up 
with  a  sudden,  brilliant  smile. 

"  So  you  will  promise  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  dear,  if  you  think  it  necessary,"  responded 
Aunt  Ann,  meekly ;  and  then  they  separated,  going  up 
their  respective  steps,  and  entering  the  houses;  one 
going  to  Margery,  and  the  other  to  Kits. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
A  VISIT  OF  CEREMONY. 

IT  was  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day.  Aunt  Ann 
had  eaten  her  solitary  luncheon,  had  made  a  delectable 
dessert  for  dinner,  and  now  was  lying  down  in  her 
own  room.  In  the  fatigue  attendant  upon  her  father's 
long  illness,  she  had  contracted  this  habit  of  a  daytime 
nap ;  and  to-day  particularly  she  stood  in  need  of  the 
rest,  in  consequence  of  her  sleepless  night  and  the 
journey  of  yesterday.  But  in  vain  she  counted  an 
endless  procession  of  sheep  jumping  over  a  stone  wall, 
slumber  refused  to  visit  her  eyelids.  There  was  too 
much  food  for  thought  in  her  morning's  adventures. 
Her  beautiful  nieces !  It  pleased  her  loving  heart  that 
only  a  partition  divided  her  from  them. 

"Smart,  brave,  good  girls,"  she  mnsed;  and  then 
she  thought  with  satisfaction  of  a  certain  balance  to 
Miss  Ann  Eaton's  credit  in  the  Cedarville  bank.  "  If 
anything  happens  to  either  of  them,  or  they  come  to  a 
tight  place,  why,  there's  that  money,  and  nobody  but 
me  to  use  it.  But  when  Kate  Standish  accepts  any  of 
it,  she  will  be  in  a  tight  place,"  and  Aunt  Ann  reflected 

55 


56  NEXT   DOOR. 

with  some  degree  of  awe  upon  the  fairer  and  graver  oi 
her  young  relatives. 

While  she  was  still  lying  on  her  bed  and  pondering, 
she  heard  the  front  door  bell  ring,  and  Rosalie's  meas- 
ured tread  as  she  moved  through  the  hall  to  answer  the 
summons. 

"  If  there  was  a  knock  at  my  front  door  at  home," 
she  thought,  "I  should  be  certain  that  somebody 
wanted  to  see  me;  but  it's  kind  of  restful  to  know 
that  whoever  that  is,  he  or  she  don't  know  that  I'm 
alive." 

What,  then,  was  her  astonishment  to  hear  Rosalie 
mounting  the  stairs,  and  presently  to  see  her,  tall  and 
unbending,  in  the  doorway. 

"There's  a  young  lady  below  to  see  you.  She 
wouldn't  send  any  name.  Says  she  is  an  old  friend." 

"A  young  lady,  an  old  friend,"  murmured  Aunt 
Ann,  rising  precipitately,  and  going  to  her  mirror  to 
smooth  her  ruffled  hair,  and  don  a  head-dress  of  black 
lace,  which  in  the  afternoon  always  replaced  the  black 
satin  bow. 

She  descended  the  stairs  in  great  curiosity,  entered 
the  parlor,  and  came  face  to  face  with  —  Margery, 
laughing  and  sparkling  with  mischief. 

"  Miss  Eaton,  I  believe,"  exclaimed  the  visitor,  com- 
ing forward  affectedly,  and  offering  her  hand  with  a 
great  deal  of  manner.  "  You  are  so  near  a  neighbor, 
I  thought  we  ought  to  become  acquainted  at  once." 

"  Where's  Kate  ? "  gasped  Aunt  Ann,  looking  ovei 
^er  shoulder  apprehensively. 


A  VISIT   OF   CEREMONY.  57 

"Gone  to  give  a  lesson,"  replied  Margery,  gayly, 
u  When  the  cat's  away,  the  mice  will  go  visiting." 
"Does  she  know  that  —  that  you  know  that  —  " 
"  No,  she  does  not  know  anything.     If  she  had,  she 
would  probably  have  gagged  me  and  tied  me  before 
she  left,"  laughed  Margerv.     "  Do  not  look  so  fright- 

O  O         •/  O 

ened  ;  it  is  not  your  fault." 

"How  did  you  find  out,  child?  Kate  thought  she 
hadn't  best  let  out  yet  a  while  that  I  was  living  so 
near." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know.  That  dear  Kate  Avould  like  to 
keep  me  shut  up  like  a  princess  in  an  enchanted  castle. 
She  thinks  the  only  safe  amusement  for  me  still  is  to 
sit  in  one  spot  day  in  and  day  out,  saying  'goo,'  and 
shaking  a  rattle.  When  you  left  me  this  morning,  1 
wanted  to  see  you  go,  so  I  went  into  the  front  room. 
It  belongs  to  an  old  gentleman,  who  is  away  all  day. 
I  do  several  little  things  for  him,  —  mend  his  gloves, 
and  all  that,  —  and  feel  a  right  to  go  in  and  out  of 
his  room  when  I  like ;  so  I  went  to  the  window,  and 
watched  you  and  Kate.  I  saw  you  gesturing  and  look- 
ing troubled,  and  finally  you  sat  down  on  the  next  door 
steps.  Then  I  was  astonished ;  for  I  thought  you  were 
crying.  Of  course,  I  watched  more  closely  than  ever. 
You  and  Kate  walked  and  talked  a  little  more,  and 
then  you  came  in  here.  Imagine  my  amazement ;  but 
I  understood  it  all  in  a  moment.  I  rushed  back  into 
our  room,  and  thought  I  would  wait  and  see  if  KaU' 
Would  confide  in  me.  I  suspected  she  would  not. 
Well,  she  came  in  looking  as  calm  and  collected  &» 


58  NEXT  DOOR. 

ever.  Said  I,  'Did  Aunt  Ann  get  started  all  right?' 
*  Oh,  yes,'  said  that  perfidious  girl.  '  Queer,'  I  went 
on,  *  that  she  shouldn't  tell  us  where  she  lived.'  Kate 
raised  her  eyebrows  indifferently.  'I  told  her,  you 
know,'  she  replied,  'that  we  could  not  come  to  see 
her  very  well.'  4An  affectionate  niece  you  are,'  said 
I ;  and  I  could  not  help  smiling,  for  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  moment  to  come  and  see  you  just  as  soon  as 
Kate  went  out,  and  I  thought  how  completely  I  was 
outwitting  hei-,  when  she  supposed  she  was  winding 
me  around  her  finger." 

"I  am  afraid  she  will  be  reai  put  out,"  returned 
Aunt  Ann,  unable  to  shake  off  the  potent  influence  of 
that  severe  young  martinet,  Kate. 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  did  not  wish  me  to  come — "  and 
Margery  made  a  feint  of  rising. 

All  Aunt  Ann's  old-fashioned  hospitality  and  love  of 
kindred  took  fire.  "  My  dear  child,  my  dear  Margery, 
want  you  to  come !  You  know,  you  know  I  do,  only 
your  sister  is  so  determined." 

Margery  laughed.  "Never  mind  my  sister  for  a  few 
minutes.  When  she  finds  out  about  it  she  will  prob- 
ably mount  the  rostrum;  but  I  shall  not  be  intimidated, 
for  I  know  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  be 
here  now.  I  want  to  see  the  cat." 

If  this  abrupt  request  was  artful,  it  was  also  emi- 
nently successful.  It  put  to  flight  every  other  thought 
of  Aunt  Ann's  mind.  She  started  up  briskly. 

"Of  course,  and  so  you  shall.  He's  got  on  one  cJ 
his  new  ribbons  and  it  matches,  —  well,  you  shall  see.1 


A   VISIT   OF   CEREMONY.  59 

Here  she  went  to  the  hall.  "  Kits,  Kits,  Kits,"  she 
cried,  and  with  a  long  mew  Kits  left  his  beloved  stove 
and  came  bounding  up  the  basement  stairs.  "Come 
in  and  show  yourself,  sir,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  proudly; 
and  indeed  Kits  was  a  handsome  specimen  as  he 
stepped  into  the  parlor,  where  Margery  praised  and 
caressed  him,  and  marvelled  at  the  .fortunate  shade  of 
his  collar. 

"How  do  you  like  the  house?"  asked  Margery, 
looking  around  the  parlor  with  its  ingrain  carpet, 
marble  centre-table,  and  half-dozen  chairs. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  well  enough  for  a  city  house;  the 
stairs  are  going  to  worry  me  some.  I  'm  pleased  to  be 
here,  but  I  guess  in  the  spring,  when  a  body  wants  a 
little  yard  room  and  some  clean  green  grass,  I  shall  be 
singing  '  There  's  no  place  like  home.'  The  furnace  is  a 
real  good  one,  and  you  see  the  men  rented  the  furniture 
of  this  room,  the  dining-room,  and  the  kitchen,  and 
one  bedroom,  the  one  I  have.  Their  own  bedrooms 
they  furnished  themselves.  Yes,  those  pictures,"  seeing 
Margery  examining  some  good  ones  that  decorated 
the  walls,  "  belong  to  them,  too,  and  that  piano  is  Mr. 
Wiley's.  I  guess  he's  a  performer.  Can't  you  play 
me  something?" 

Margery  seated  herself  and  rattled  off  a  concert 
polka  with  flexible  fingers,  but  she  sighed  as  she  made 
mistakes,  and  finally  brought  the  piece  to  a  premature 
close. 

"  You  see  I  cannot  play  any  more.  I  have  na 
opportunity  to  practise." 


00  ^EXT  DOOR. 


"My,  how  those  little  hands  can  fly  about,"  said  Ann* 
Ann,  admiringly.  "It's  a  pity  you  must  lose  what 
you  worked  so  hard  to  get." 

Margery  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Yes,  it  is  one 
of  a  thousand  pities  ;  but  I  should  be  ungrateful  to 
complain  now  that  I  am  having  such  a  charming  adven- 
ture. How  many  nice  little  sociable  times  we  can 
have  together  !  You  will  be  alone  so  many  hours  of 
every  day,  just  as  I  am." 

"Bless  your  heart,  indeed  we  can,"  said  Aunt  Ann, 
much  pleased.  •  "  I  only  wish  I  had  anything  here  to 
amuse  you." 

"  I  do  not  need  to  be  amused.  I  wish  I  could  make 
you  a  scarf  for  that  cold,  bare  table." 

"I  suppose  you  know  how  to  do  all  these  new- 
fangled embroideries." 

"  Yes,  I  know  a  good  deal  about  it,  and  enjoy  the 
Work  ;  but  materials  are  expensive." 

"  Would  you  do  the  work  if  I  supplied  the  mate- 
rials." 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"It's  a  bargain,  then,  and  I'll  be  as  fine  as  a  fiddle 
when  I  get  back  to  Cedarville.  Mr.  Wiley  has  the 
back  parlor  for  his  room.  He's  got  it  fixed  up  fine, 
you  see."  Aunt  Ann  paused  in  the  act  of  throwing 
open  the  double  doors.  "  Kate  !  "  she  murmured 
faintly,  with  a  bewildered  remembrance  of  her  prem- 
ises of  the  morning,  not  quite  certain  as  to  what  thej 
included. 

"Never  mind   Kate,"   said    Margery,    impatiently 


A  VISIT  OF   CEREMONY.  61 

*  Seeing  a  pretty  room  isn't  going  to  hurt  me.    Which 
is  Mr.  Wiley?" 

"  He  is  the  widower,"  and  Aunt  Ann  threw  open 
the  doors.  The  room  thus  disclosed  looked  quite  lux- 
urious compared  with  the  unhomelike  parlor.  It  had 
a  soft  carpet,  a  long  mirror,  a  handsome  dressing-case 
on  the  bureau,  and  heavy  hangings  at  the  windows. 
There  were  materials  for  a  fire  laid  ready  in  the  grate, 
and  beside  it  was  the  easiest  of  easy-chairs. 

"  He  is  an  odious,  selfish  man,"  said  Margery,  quick- 
ly, "  or  he  would  have  two  easy-chairs." 

"  My  dear,  not  at  all.  He  is  a  very  pleasant  man ; 
and  this,"  leading  the  way  to  a  small  apartment  on  the 
same  door,  "is  Mr.  Herring's  room." 

"Which  is  he?" 

"The  bachelor.    You  see  he  isn't  so  much  fixed  up." 

"No,  I  should  say  not,"  replied  Margery.  "It  is  a 
regular  hermitage." 

"I  don't  know  as  you  care  to  take  the  trouble  to 
come  up  stairs." 

"Yes,  indeed  I  do,"  said  the  girl,  determinedly.  "I 
wish  to  see  everything,"  and  as  Kits  just  then  rubbed 
against  her,  she  stooped  and  patted  him. 

"  You're  finding  out  what  a  nice  girl  she  is,  arc 
you,  Kits?"  observed  Aunt  Ann,  and  the  three  as- 
tended  the  stairs  in  great  harmony. 

"This  little  front  room  is  Mr.  Sharp's,"  announced 
the  hostess. 

"  Which  is  he  ? "  came  Margery's  stereotyped  in> 
quiry. 


62  NEXT  BOOK. 

"He's  the  young  man ;  and  a  clever  kind  of  a  fellow, 
I  think,  so  fond  of  Kits,"  replied  Aunt  Ann,  compl* 
cently. 

Margery  stood  at  the  door  and  gazed  about  the 
room.  Evidently  Mr.  Sharp  was  a  wheel-man.  Seve- 
ral photographs  of  bicyclers,  single  and  in  groups, 
adorned  the  walls. 

"That  little  room  at  the  other  end  of  the  hall  is 
Rosalie's,  and  this  next  is  Ray's.  You  see  it  is  the 
mate  to  yours." 

"  He  is  the  boy,"  said  Margery. 

"Yes,  he  is  the  boy,"  replied  Aunt  Ann,  with  a 
heavy  sigh,  as  she  opened  the  door  and  revealed  the 
interior  of  the  room.  It  was  handsomely  furnished  in 
a  light,  sunshiny  fashion,  with  dozens  of  knick-knacks 
about,  made  by  feminine  hands.  A  dainty  smoking, 
jacket  hung  over  tne  back  of  a  chair,  and  a  rack  full 
of  photographs  on  a  table  attracted  Margery's  atten- 
tion. 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  looking  at  them  if  I  were  you, 
Margery,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  in  sudden  trepidation. 
"  I've  been  turning  over  in  my  mind  to-day  whether 
I  ought  not  to  mention  those  pictures  to  Uncle  Joha 
I  suppose  they're  actors  or  something  like  that,  and 
there's  his  mother's  likeness  right  on  the  same  table 
with  them." 

But  Margery  scarcely  heard  these  words.  Certainly 
ehe  did  not  heed  them.  She  had  recognized  one  of 
the  photographed  faces.  Her  countenance  brightened 
as  she  took  it  from  its  place. 


A  VISIT  OF  CEREMONY.  63 

*'  This  is  Mr.  Exton ! "  she  exclaimed,  gazing  into 
the  steady  eyes.  "  How  strange  to  find  his  picture 
here." 

Aunt  Ann  adjusted  her  spectacles  and  looked  curi« 
ously  over  Margery's  shoulder. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  One  of  your  friends  ?  He's  a  hand- 
some man,  but  he  looks  awful  set." 

"  I  am  slightly  acquainted  with  him.  He  goes  to 
Kate's  church.  In  fact,  he  is  one  of  the  committee  on 
music  that  decided  her  fate  and  gave  her  the  position." 

"  He  looks  young  to  have  the  say  of  anything  to  do 
with  the  church." 

"  He  is  not  young.  He  must  be  over  thirty,"  said 
Margery  innocently. 

Aunt  Ann  laughed.  "  That's  young  enough  to  be 
my  son." 

"  Well,  the  real  reason  is  that  he  is  rich  and  influen' 
tial.  He  is  perfectly  lovely,  Aunt  Ann.  Oh,  I  wish 
i  could  have  this  picture." 

"  Well,  if  Ray  is  anything  like  what  he  was  three 
years  ago,  you  might  have  anything  of  his  for  the  ask- 
ing." 

"It  would  be  such  fun  to  mystify  Kate  with  it,w 
said  Margery,  laying  down  the  photograph  with  a 
sifjh.  "  You  didn't  know  I  was  a  lovelorn  maid,  did 


you 


9" 


"  Bless  my  heart !"  and  Aunt  Ann  turned  her  specta- 
cles upon  the  speaker,  in  dismay. 

*'  Really,  and  that  is  the  man,"  indicating  the  pio 
ture  dramatically. 


54  NEXT  DOOR. 

a In  love  with  him?     You,  Margery?" 

"  Yes,  indeed.  In  love  with  his  smile  and  his  money. 
Do  you  think  I  will  ever  get  them?" 
»  Aunt  Ann  passed  her  arm  around  the  girl  as  she 
turned  away,  in  doubt  whether  to  regard  her  conti- 
dence  seriously.  "  You  will  if  he  has  good  taste,"  sne 
said  kindly;  "but  I  wouldn't  trust  men,  Margery." 

"  I  do  not  have  the  opportunity,"  returned  the  gin, 
nai'vely.  "  Kate  has  a  private  and  particular  glare  for 
any  roan  who  happens  to  turn  his  head  my  way. 
I  must  go  home  now  and  begin  some  sewing,  in 
order  to  appear  a  pattern  of  domestic  loveliness 
when  she  gets  back.  Oh,  won't  I  have  my  revenge 
on  her!  I  will  play  with  her  as  Kits  would  with  a 
mouse." 

"My  dear,  I  think  you  had  better  tell  her,"  said 
Aunt  Ann  persuasively.  "  I  don't  approve  of  decep- 
tion." 

"Then  what  do  you  think  of  her  wanting  to  keep 
me  in  the  dark  about  your  being  here  ?  " 

"  Why  —  "  hesitated  Aunt  Ann,  clearing  her  throat, 
"  I  think  her  motives  were  of  the  best  kind." 

Margery  laughed.  "  So  are  mine ;  irreproachable, 
Now  show  me  something  else." 

•'There  is  nothing  left  but  my  room,"  and  Aunt  Ann 
ushered  her  guest  into  the  front  chamber.  "  You  see 
.hey  provided  for  me  very  kindly." 

"  Ye-es,"  assented  Margery,  looking  about  critically; 

"The  night  I  arrived,  Ray  had  a  vase  of  roses  o* 
Ithe  bureau.'* 


A  VISIT  OF   CEREMONY.  65 

"  Why,  your  Ray  is  a  clever  little  fellow,"  replied 
the  girl  approvingly. 

"  Yes,  he's  kind-hearted,  very  kind-hearted." 

"  Your  room  looks  too  bare.  We  must  fix  it  up  a 
little.  I  can  give  y.m  a  photograph  of  myself  as  a 
sort  of  nucleus  for  a  collection  if  you  like." 

"  I  should  like  one,  of  all  things." 

"  Kate  and  I  both  had  them  taken  last  summer,  for 
the  schoolgirls,  and  we  have  two  left.  I  will  run  in 
and  get  them  now." 

"  Well,  if  it  would  not  be  too  much  trouble,"  said 
Aunt  Ann,  her  countenance  beaming. 

Margery  ran  lightly  down  stairs,  and  out.  When 
she  returned  Aunt  Ann  was  at  the  street  door  to  meet 
her.  Despite  the  brevity  of  her  niece's  absence,  she 
had  had  time  to  throw  off  the  cheer  of  her  influence, 
and  to  think  again  of  Kate.  Her  manner  and  smile 
were  constrained  as  she  thanked  Margery.  "  Won't 
you  come  in  again?"  she  asked. 

The  girl  detected  the  uneasiness  in  her  tone,  and 
laughed  merrily. 

"  Kate  succeeded  in  awing  you  pretty  completely, 
didn't  she?  No,  thank  you,  I  will  not  come  in  again 
now.  Do  not  worry  at  all,  Aunt  Ann.  You  know  it 
is  only  your  family  that  Kate  is  shy  of,  and  they  are 
away  all  day,  are  they  not?" 

"  They  certainly  are,"  replied  Aunt  Ann,  in  tones  of 
self-justification.  "  I  can't  see,  Margery,  why  you 
shouldn't  go  to  the  village  —  I  mean  down  town  — • 
with  me  to-morrow  morning,  to  get  that  fancy-work 


DO  NEXT   DOOR. 

material,  and  then  come  home  to  lunch  here,  and,  ol 
course,  have  Kate  come  in  too.  How  could  she 
object?" 

"Kate  is  not  at  home  to  lunch  to-morrow.  She 
teaches  in  the  Highlands,  and  lunches  there  too ;  but 
I  will  come." 

"Very  well,"  and  Aunt  Ann  nodded  smilingly. 
**  Talk  it  over  with  Kate.  I  think  she  will  let  you." 

Margery  kissed  her  hand  without  replying,  and 
departed.  Aunt  Ann  closed  the  door,  and  examined 
the  pictures  she  held,  uttering  many  an  incoherent 
expression  of  admiration. 

"If  you  can  find  me  a  handsomer  pair  of  girls  than 
tnat,  I'd  like  to  know  it,"  she  murmured,  entering  the 
parlor,  and  placing  the  photographs  on  the  bare  man- 
tel-piece. 

"  I  wish  Emma  could  see  them,"  she  added,  fondly. 

The  cat  rubbed  against  her.  "Kits,  it's  time  the 
potatoes  were  on.  You're  always  willing  to  get  by  the 
kitchen  fire.  Come,  let's  go  down." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  GIRLS*  PHOTOGRAPHS. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  Aunt  Ann's  first  dinner  wag 
a  success.  It  really  was  a  marvel  in  how  cool,  and 
unruffled,  and  neat  a  condition  she  could  come  straight 
from  the  work  of  preparing  it,  and  seat  herself  at  the 
head  of  the  table.  No  wonder  those  four  erstwhile 
homeless  men  cast  appreciative  glances  at  her  and  at 
each  other  as  they  consumed  the  excellent  meal. 

"  I  trust  your  first  day  in  Boston  has  passed  pleas- 
antly, Miss  Eaton,"  observed  Mr.  Wiley,  in  his  smooth, 
quiet  tones. 

"  It  has  been  a  wonderful  day,"  she  replied,  briskly. 

"  We  want  to  hear  all  about  it,  Aunt  Ann,"  said 
Ray,  who  was  in  a  high  state  of  satisfaction. 

"  Does  Miss  Eaton  add  the  ability  of  the  raconteuse 
to  her  manifold  accomplishments?  "  asked  Mr.  Sharp. 

Ray  chuckled.  "  Here,  Aunt  Ann,  Ted  wants  tha 
biggest  orange  in  the  dish  for  that." 

OO  O 

"Don't  be  impudent,  Baby,"  retorted  Mr.  Sharp, 
"Do  favor  its,  Miss  Eaton." 

"What'll  you  have,  sir?'  inquired  Aunt  Ann,  puv 
ting  out  a  helping  hand,  vaguely. 

67 


68  NEXT  DOOR. 

"  He  only  wants  to  hear  an  account  of  your  day," 
explained  Ray.  "Did  you  see  your  nieces?  Miss 
Eaton  has  some  nieces  in  the  city." 

"  Yes,  I  saw  them,"  replied  Aunt  Ann,  with  dignity, 
making  up  her  mind  to  be  exceedingly  reserved  on 
what  she  had  discovered  to  be  so  delicate  a  subject. 

"  When  are  they  going  to  visit  you  ?  "  pursued  Ray. 
"We  are  all  hospitably  inclined,  aren't  we?  We 
should  all  be  delighted  if  Miss  Eaton  would  feel  at 
liberty  to  entertain  her  relatives  here  at  any  time. 
Eighteen  and  twenty-one,"  he  added,  sotto  voce,  to 
Mr.  Sharp,  who  sat  next  him. 

The  latter  assented  effusively.  Mr.  Wiley  bowed 
and  smiled  blandly,  and  said,  "Most  certainly."  Mr, 
Herring  grunted  what  might  be  taken  for  an  assent. 

"  Invite  them  to  dinner,  Aunt  Ann.  The  younger 
one  can  sit  between  you  and  me,  and  the  elder  between 
you  and  Mr.  Wiley." 

"  Get  out ! "  ejaculated  Mr.  Sharp,  with  more  haste 
than  courtesy.  "  Where  do  I  come  in  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  can  look  at  them,  Teddy,  my  boy,"  replied 
Ray,  patronizingly.  "  When  shall  it  be,  Aunt  Ann  ?  " 

"  Never,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  firmly.  "  They 
don't  seem  to  have  much  idea  of  visiting." 

"Oh,  that  won't  do,"  burst  forth  Ray.  "We  rely 
upon  you  to  pursuade  them,  and  you  must  not  disap- 
point us." 

"  It  disappoints  me,  you  may  be  certain,"  returned 
Aunt  Ann,  feeling  pleasantly  important.  "All  th* 
toore  because  I  find  them  —  well,  all  I  could  wish  them 


THE  GIRLS'   PHOTOGRAPHS.  69 

to  be.  I  got  their  pictures,"  she  continued,  tempted 
beyond  her  strength  to  tantalize  her  family  by  allow- 
ing them  to  see  what  they  missed.  "  Rosalie,  you  may 
go  up  on  the  parlor  mantel-piece,  and  bring  me  the  pho- 
tographs that  are  there." 

Rosalie  obeyed  as  one  who  says,  "I  go,  but  of  mine 
own  accord ! " 

"There  they  are,"  continued  Aunt  Ann,  com- 
placently, taking  the  pictures  from  her  handmaiden, 
and  giving  Margery's  to  Ray,  on  her  left,  and  Kate's 
to  Mr.  Wiley,  on  her  right. 

Could  Kate,  calmly  eating  her  evening  meal  on  the 
other  side  of  the  partition,  but  see  into  the  neighbor- 
ing dining-room,  the  change  in  her  expression  would 
probably  be  a  study. 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  Ray  and  Mr.  Sharp,  simulta- 
neously, the  latter  leaning  eagerly  over  the  former's 
shoulder.  "Oh,  you  know,  Aunt  Ann,  no  fellow's  going 
to  stand  this,"  exclaimed  the  younger,  knitting  his  hand- 
some brows  and  smiling  involuntarily  at  the  face  that 
looked  back  at  him,  saucy  and  bright,  a  speaking  like- 
ness of  Margery's  vivacious  self.  "This  —  this  isn't 
right,  you  know." 

Aunt  Ann  bridled,  and  smiled,  and  bit  her  lips,  lis- 
tening to  Mr.  Wiley's  murmured  compliments. 

The  pictures  passed  about,  Ray  parting  reluctantly 
w'th  his,  and  receiving  Kate's  curiously. 

"  Why,  I  know  this  face,"  he  exclaimed  in  surprise. 
*  Who  is  it  ?  I  know  her  perfectly  well." 

tc  That  is  Miss  Kate  Standisii,  my  oldest  niece,"  said 


70  NEXT  DOOR. 

Aunt  Ann,  proudly.  "I  am  sure  you  don't  know  her, 
for  she  don't  know  you,  —  and  don't  want  to,"  she 
added  under  her  breath. 

"  Standish.  That's  it,"  said  Ray,  with  satisfaction. 
"  It  is  Miss  Standish,  the  soprano  of  our  church  ;  and 
she  is  your  niece,  Aunt  Ann  ?  "Well,  that  is  strange. 
Tell  her  it  is  her  duty  to  come.  I  was  never  so  regu- 
lar at  church  in  my  life  as  I  have  been  here.  She  can 
infer  what  she  pleases." 

"  I'm  very  glad  you  are  regular  at  church,  Ray,"  said 
Aunt  Ann,  seriously,  "although  I'm  sorry  you  see  it 
your  duty  to  attend  the  Episcopal  church." 

"  But  Miss  Standish  doesn't  sing  anywhere  else." 

"  Ray ! "    Aunt  Ann's  voice  was  awful  now. 

"  Well,  it  is  my  own  church,  you  know,"  he  replied, 
pacifically. 

"That's  better,"  said  Aunt  Ann.  "I  must  tell  you 
all  how  lucky  I  was  this  morning.  Mr.  Herring,  won't 
you  let  me  put  you  on  a  little  more  potato?"  Mr. 
Herring  refused,  and  she  continued,  "I  went  to  the 
store  to  get  some  ribbon  for  Kits." 

"  A  wonderful  animal,"  interpolated  Mr.  Sharp,  f er- 
vently. 

"Oh,  Ted,  this  is  fulsome,"  ejaculated  Ray. 

"Yes,  he  is,  Mr.  Sharp.  I  don't  say  it  because  he's 
my  cat.  And  there  at  the  counter  I  saw  a  young 
lady  and  asked  her  advice  about  the  shade ;  then  I 
told  her  the  number  and  street  where  my  nieces 
lived,  and  asked  how  to  get  there,  and  she  said  that 
was  just  where  she  was  going,  so  we  went  along  toi 


THE   GIRLS'   PHOTOGRAPHS.  71 

gether,  and  'twasn't  until  we  got  there  that  I  found 
out  it  was  Margery" 

"  Who  is  Margery?  "  came  from  all  but  Mr.  Herring. 

"The  one  Ray's  got,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  gesturing 
toward  the  photograph  of  which  Ray  had  i'«o:ained 
possession.  "  You'd  think  that  was  enough,"  she  con  • 
tinned,  with  growing  vivacity,  seeing  the  interest  in  the 
faces  of  her  listeners.  "  It  makes  me  out  so  stupid  I'd 
ought  to  be  ashamed  to  tell  it,  but  it's  too  good  to 
keep.  When  I  left  their  house,  Kate  came  out  with 
me.  I  all  of  a  sudden  remembered  that  I  didn't  know 
where  on  earth  I  lived.  Well,  there  I  stood,  just 
dumb,  when,  turning  around,  who  should  I  see  in  the 
window  of  the  very  next  house,"  and  Aunt  Ann 
laughed  at  the  remembrance  until  her  eyes  were 
squeezed  tight  shut,  "  but  Kits  himself !  There  I  was, 
home." 

"  Then  those  charmers  live  next  door,"  cried  Ray. 

"  Who  said  they  did  ?  "  demanded  Aunt  Ann  with 
sudden  and  tremendous  gravity. 

"  You  did,  hurrah !  "  cried  the  young  fellow,  rising 
from  the  table  and  waving  the  photograph  high  above 
his  head. 

"Ray,  Ray  Ingalls,"  in  extremest  trepidation. 
«  What  —  where  —  " 

"  I'm  going  right  in  there  to  pay  my  respects.  I'll 
eay  you  sent  me." 

"  Ray  Ingalls,  if  you  stir  one  step  I'll  send  for  your 
Uncle  John.  Oh,  why  can't  I  never  learn  to  be  any- 
thing  but  a  fool.  Ray,  and  gentlemen,  — "  added 


72  NEXT  DOOR. 

Aunt  Ann,  rising,  and  changing  her  tone  from  lamenta- 
tion to  impressiveness,  "  I  am  very  sorry  for  what  1 
have  just  let  out.  My  relation  with  you  is  a  business 
one,  friendly,  too,  I  hope,  but  I  have  no  right  to  drag 
my  nieces  into  it.  I  see  now  it  was  very  wrong  in  me 
to  parade  their  pictures  around  so,  and  'twas  nothing 
but  pride  and  foolishness  made  me  do  it.  My  only 
excuse  is  that  Ray,  here,  seems  like  one  of  my  own, 
and  it  was  him  started  it." 

Aunt  Ann's  listeners  rose  like  one  man,  even  the 
antiquated  Herring  being  moved  by  her  moist  eyes 
and  her  earnestness  to  a  chivalrous  impulse. 

Ray  took  her  hand  with  affectionate  respect. 

"Aunt  Ann,  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  am  sure  I  speak 
for  all  when  I  say  that  you  have  not,  and  never  shall 
have,  the  least  cause  for  regret  at  having  shown  us 
these  lovely  faces ;  and  the  fact  of  knowing  that  they 
are  so  near  will  only  serve  to  make  us  behave  our- 
selves the  better."  Here  the  speaker  turned  toward 
the  door.  "And  there,  to  stamp  your  scapegrace  and 
his  words  with  respectability,  is  Uncle  John  himself." 

They  all  turned  toward  the  open  door  where  Mr. 
Exton  stood,  very  tall  and  very  dignified,  an  expres- 
sion of  curious  interest  in  his  eyes.  Aunt  Ann  tried, 
in  a  bewildered  way,  to  remember  where  she  had  seen 
his  face ;  but  the  surprise  of  discovering  the  staid  and 
respectable  Uncle  John  in  this  handsome  young  man 
overpowered  all  other  ideas. 

"  Welcome  to  our  humble  board,  Uncle  John,"  said 
Ray,  "Miss  Eaton,  this  is  my  uncle,  Mr.  Exton." 


THE  GIRLS'   PHOTOGRAPHS.  73 

Mr.  Exton  came  forward,  and  Aunt  Ann  shook  hands 
with  him.  She  remembered  now  that  it  was  his  pic- 
ture Margery  had  found  in  Ray's  room.  Her  hospi- 
tality, equal  to  any  occasion,  asserted  itself. 

"Of  course,  you'll  sit  right  down  and  take  your 
dinner  with  us,  Mr.  Exton.  You  see  the  table  isn't 
cleared,  and  there  isn't  a  bit  of  hurry."  • 

The  others,  who  all  seemed  sincerely  pleased  with 
the  guest's  arrival,  joining  their  petition  to  hers, 
Mr.  Exton,  after  some  demur,  consented  Aunt  Ann 
could  not  help  remarking  that  a  new  interest  ap- 
peared in  the  manner  of  her  family,  and  that  each 
one  was  eager  to  add  in  some  way  to  the  new-comer'a 
comfort. 

"I  did  not  expect  to  do  this,"  said  the  latter,  seating 
himself.  "  I  thought  I  would  look  in  upon  you  before 
I  went  home,  and  see  how  everything  was  going.  Ray 
has  been  good  enough  to  furnish  me  with  a  latch-key, 
which  enabled  me  to  surprise  you." 

As  Aunt  Ann  listened  to  his  speech,  and  observed 
his  manner,  she  began  to  feel  that  there  might  be  a 
possibility  of  transferring  her  trust  and  allegiance 
from  the  bald-headed  and  stout  uncle  to  this  one  so 
surprisingly  youthful.  As  she  was  thinking  this,  John 
Exton  looked  up  with  his  deliberate  gravity,  and  smiled 
as  he  met  her  attentive  gaze. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  could  consent  to  come  to  Bos- 
ton, Miss  Eaton." 

Aunt  Ann  recalled  Margery's  words,  "I  am  in  love 
with  his  smile  and  his  money." 


74  NEXT  DOOR. 

"Excuse  me,"  she  said,  bustling  about  among  the 
dishes  nervously,  "  what  did  you.  say?" 

"You  are  going  to  make  these  forlorn  ones  very 
comfortable."  As  Mr.  Exton  spoke,  he  trifled  absently 
with  the  photographs  which  lay  near  him.  "  Ah !  "  he 
exclaimed,  concentrating  his  attention  upon  that  of 
Kate,  "that  is  a  surprisingly  good  picture  of  Miss 
Stand  ish." 

For  a  moment  no  one  spoke ;  then  Ray  cleared  his 
throat. 

"Yes.  It  transpires  that  Miss  Standisli  is  Miss 
Eaton's  niece." 

"Indeed !  "  looking  up  at  Aunt  Ann  with  a  new  in- 
terest. "  Your  niece  is  very  talented." 

Aunt  Ann  bowed  her  thanks.  "  I  haven't  heard  her 
sing  yet  myself,"  she  replied. 

Mr.  Exton  took  up  the  other  photograph.  His  face 
broke  into  an  amused  smile,  which  he  instantly  re- 
pressed. "  This  is  her  sister,"  he  said. 

"  Do  you  know  her  ?  "  asked  Ray,  with  great  interest. 

"I  met  her  once,"  replied  Mr.  Exton,  and  changed 
the  subject. 

The  guest  remained  for  some  hours  into  the  evening. 
After  dinner  all  repaired  to  the  parlor,  whose  comfort- 
Jess  aspect  struck  one  and  all  alike. 

"  Can't  the  Prairie  Flower  be  induced  to  build  us  a 
grate  fire?"  asked  Ray. 

"  We  can  have  a  fire  just  as  well  as  not,"  replied 
Aunt  Ann,  "  only  I  didn't  know  as  you  meant  to  us« 
the  parlor  much." 


THE  GIRLS     PHOTOGRAPHS.  75 

"  We  did  or  we  didn't,  just  as  we  happened  to  feel, 
Baid   Mr.  Herring,  gruffly.      "This   is   Liberty   HalL 
That  was  the  understanding." 

"  Then  we  will  have  a  fire,"  said  Aunt  Ann. 

Ray  ran  up  to  his  room  to  exchange  his  coat  for  his 
smoking-jacket.  When  he  came  down,  fifteen  minutes 
later,  looking  very  dandified  and  handsome  in  the  vel- 
vet, satin-faced  coat,  he  was  smiling,  and  tucking  some- 
thing into  an  inside  pocket.  Mr.  Wiley  had  thrown 
open  the  doors  into  his  room ;  fires  were  crackling  in 
both  grates.  There  was  a  lamp  burning  on  the  centre- 
table,  and  beside  it  sat  Aunt  Ann,  reading  the  evening 
paper  with  which  Mr.  Sharp  had  provided  her.  That 
gentleman  was  listening  to  a  conversation  between  Mr. 
Wiley  and  Mr.  Exton  ;  and  Mr.  Herring,  with  his  hands 
behind  him,  was  wandering  up  and  down  the  room. 

Kay  rested  a  hand  on  Aunt  Ann's  chair-back,  and 
she  looked  up  at  his  brilliant  brown  eyes  and  the  even 
row  of  white  teeth  which  he  was  displaying 

"  Which  of  them  was  here  to-day?"  he  asked  softly, 

"  If  you  think  you  will  get  any  more  out  of  me,  you 
scamp,  you  are  mistaken,"  and  Aunt  Ann's  lips  shut 
firmly  together  as  she  feigned  to  resume  her  reading. 

"Did  she  like  the  plan  of  the  house?" 

Aunt  Ann  started,  but  read  harder  than  ever. 

"  And  did  she  think  Uncle  John's  picture  did  him 
justice?" 

The  victim  looked  up  this  time,  really  distressed. 
w  It  was  my  fault,  Ray,  not  the  least  bit  Margery's,  1 
showed  her  over  the  house." 


^8  NEXT  DOOR. 

"I'm  glad  it  was  Margery,"  be  observed,  with  a 
sigh  of  relief.  "  I  am  complimented  that  there  was 
anything  in  my  room  worthy  of  her  attention."  Here 
he  drew  forth  from  his  pocket  a  little  brown  glove, 
worn  and  carefully  mended,  and  let  Aunt  Ann  glance 
at  it  before  returning  it  to  its  hiding-place. 

"  It  was  on  the  floor  by  my  table,"  he  explained. 

"  Well,  I  will  return  it  to  her,"  said  Aunt  Ann, 
holding  out  her  hand,  with  some  asperity  of  manner. 

"Yes;  you  will  when  you  get  it,"  he  replied,  calmly. 

"Is  this  keeping  the  promise  you  made  at  the  dinner- 
table?"  asked  Aunt  Ann,  reproachfully. 

"Certainly;  this  is  only  proving  the  extent  of  my 
respectful  admiration.  Oh,  I  will  keep  my  word, 
Aunt  Ann,  and  you  can't  blame  me  for  thinking  she's 
awfully  pretty." 

"No,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  reflectively,  "I  can't;  but 
that  has  nothing  to  do  with  her  glove." 

"The  glove  has  had  something  to  do  with  her; 
therefore,  so  long  as  you  cruelly  refuse  to  let  me  see 
her,  I  shall  not  be  foolish  enough  to  give  up  the  little 
I  have." 

Aunt  Ann  looked  around  to  where  Mr.  Exton  stood, 
gravely  listening  to  Mr.  Wiley's  low-spoken  remarks 
on  some  business  topic.  His  eyes  rested  absently  on 
his  nephew  while  he  nodded  assent  to  his  companion's 
views. 

"There's  your  uncle  right  there,"  she  threatened 
*I  can  speak  to  him  if  I  like." 

"Certainly;    go  right  up  to  him  and  say,  *  Can't 


THE   GIRLS'   PHOTOGEAPHS.  77 

Ray  give  back  Margery's  glove?'  "  suggested  tne  other, 
mockingly. 

"  He  doesn't  look  as  though  he  would  have  any  sym- 
pathy with  such  foolishness,"  said  Aunt  Ann. 

"Well,  why  don't  you  ask  him  if  he  would  give  up 
a  souvenir  of  a  pretty  girl  if  he  once  had  possession  of 
it?" 

"  Look  here,  Ray,"  and  Aunt  Ann  lifted  her  head 
suddenly  and  fixed  him  with  her  spectacles,  "  I  won't 
have  any  calf-love!" 

"  No,"  replied  the  young  fellow,  with  a  mischievous 
smile ;  "  it  is  a  little  late  for  you  to  be  afflicted  that 
way." 

Aunt  Ann's  lips  twitched,  but  she  repressed  the 
smile,  gave  a  heavy  sigh,  and  returned  to  her  news- 
paper. Ray  persistently  held  his  position  by  her  chair. 

*  Couldn't  you  sort  of  praise  me  up  to  her,  Aunt 
Ann?"  he  asked,  after  a  pause.  "Rouse  her  curiosity, 
as  it  were  ?  " 

"  If  you  care  for  anybody's  good  opinion,  you  had 
better  beg  me  not  to  talk  to  them  about  you,"  was  the 
short  reply;  "and  now  let  me  alone.  I  want  to  get 
calmed  down  before  bedtime.  I've  made  a  botch  of 
my  first  day  in  Boston,  and  I  think  if  I  can  get  a  good 
pleep  to-night  I  may  do  better  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  COUP  D'ETAT. 

WHEN  Margery  called  the  next  morning  to  accom 
pany  Aunt  Ann  on  her  shopping  expedition,  the  phcn 
tographs  of  herself  and  Kate  were  standing,  one  on 
each  side  of  their  aunt's  looking-glass,  in  her  room. 

"And  I'm  very  glad  that  pictures  tell  no  tales," 
thought  Aunt  Ann,  as  she  put  on  her  outside  garments, 
Margery  meanwhile  sitting  by. 

"  We  had  a  guest  to  dinner  last  night,"  remarked 
Aunt  Ann,  with  an  important,  smiling  nod. 

"  Some  one  I  know  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Not  Mr.  Exton?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Exton;  and,  Margery,  if  you  will  believe 
it,  he  is  Ray  Ingalls'  uncle.  I  think  I  never  was  more 
taken  back." 

"  Mr.  Exton  here ! "  exclaimed  Margery.  "  I  think 
if  I  had  known  it  I  should  have  been  peering  in  at  the 
windows.  Ray  Ingalls  is  a  fortunate  boy  to  have  such 
a  relative."  Then,  with  a  change  of  manner,  "Oh, 
Aunt  Ann,  did  you  see  anything  of  an  old  brown 

78 


A  COUP  D'ETAT.  79 

glove  after  I  left  here  yesterday  ?  I  dropped  it  either 
here  or  on  the  way  home." 

Aunt  Ann  was  stooping  down,  adjusting  her  over- 
shoes. 

"  I  didn't  find  it,"  she  replied,  in  a  smothered  voice. 
''I'm  sorry  you  lost  it." 

'  So  am  I,"  replied  Margery,  holding  oat  her  hands, 
encased  in  handsome  black  kids;  "for  now  I  shall 
have  to  wear  my  best  ones  all  the  time.  Our  glove? 
and  shoes  Kate  always  buys  of  the  best,  and  they  cost 
i*  good  deal ;  but  I  will  not  have  another  pair  until  she 
does,  no  matter  how  long  it  is." 

Aunt  Ann  listened  with  interest.  "  You  shall  just 
have  your  glove  back,  then,"  she  replied,  indignantly. 

"Then  you  know  where  it  is,"  said  Margery,  sur- 
prised. 

"  Yes  —  no  —  "  stammered  Aunt  Ann,  "  Go  'way, 
Kits,  you're  always  around  when  you  ain't  wanted," 
for  the  cat  had  jumped  up  on  the  bed  beside  her,  and 
was  pushing  his  head  under  her  arm. 

Kits  laid  his  ears  back,  closed  his  eyes,  and  winced 
under  the  unceremonious  slap  she  gave  him.  "I — . 
I  —  it  may  be  around  the  floor  somewhere,  now.  I'll 
look.  You  know  we  were  all  over  the  house  yester- 
day." 

"  If  anybody  found  it  he  must  have  thought  it  was 
yours,"  said  Margery,  hopefully. 

Aunt  Ann  spread  out  her  own  number  seven  hand 
and  laughed  uneasily. 

Margery    looked    at    her    inquiringly.      She    pe* 


80  NEXT  DOOR. 

ceived  that  here  was  something  which  Aunt  Ann 
hesitated  to  explain,  and  her  curiosity  was  aroused. 

"I'll  hunt  a  little  for  it,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  "if 
you'll  sit  right  where  you  are.  Don't  you  disturb 
yourself." 

Margery,  made  more  curious  hy  her  fidgety  man- 
ner, obediently  sat  still,  twirling  the  curtain  tassel ; 
but  her  hearing  was  sharpened,  and  she  distinctly 
heard  Ray's  door  open,  then  all  was  still. 

In  a  short  time  Aunt  Ann  returned,  quite  flushed 
in  the  face,  and  holding  up  the  little  glove  in  triumph. 

"There  it  is,  my  dear.  I  always  was  a  master  hand 
for  finding  anything  that  was  lost." 

"  Thank  you.     Where  was  it  ?  " 

"In  the  back  room,  there,"  replied  Aunt  Ann,  in. 
differently. 

"  Oh ! "  said  Margery,  and  became  thoughtful  for  a 
minute.  Her  aunt  went  into  the  closet  for  her  bonnet. 
When  she  re-appeared,  Margery  spoke  again. 

"  How  old  is  Ray  Ingalls?" 

"Ray?  He's  —  let  me  see  —  Ray  will  be  twenty- 
two  if  he  lives  till  next  summer,  and  he  ain't  so  per- 
fect that  I'm  afraid  of  his  dying  young." 

"  I  thought  he  was  younger,"  was  Margery's  com- 
ment. She  looked  at  the  brown  glove  askance.  The 
limp  and  homely  little  article  had  acquired  signifi- 
cance. She  burned  with  curiosity  to  know  its  truant 
history ;  but  she  would  not  ask.  Tucking  it  into  hei 
pocket,  she  arose. 

"Come,  Aunt  Ann,  you  must  be  ready." 


A  COUP  D'fiTAT.  81; 

<:  Yes,  I  am  at!  last.  Just  wait  until  I  let  Kits  into, 
the  dining-room.  Hs  likes  to  lay  in  the  sun  there." 

A  couple  of  hours  later  the  two  were  returning, 
having  successfully  accomplished  their  errands.  They 
had  their  packages  with  them,  for  Aunt  Ann  was  im- 
patient to  have  Margery  begin  the  table-scarf  she  had 
promised. 

"  And  now  you  are  coming  to  dinner  —  I  mean  to 
lunch,  with  me  ? "  asked  the  former,  as  they  left  the 
horse-car.  "  I  hope  Kate  agreed  to  it." 

"  I  did  not  ask  her." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  I  wanted  to  come,"  replied  Margery, 
with  a  laugh. 

"  But  you  told  her  about  yesterday  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed." 

"But,  Margery!  This  underhanded  way  of  doing 
things  isn't  the  way  I  like." 

"  How  odd !  My  conscience  does  not  sting,  nor 
whisper,  nor  do  any  of  the  things  a  bad  conscience 
does,"  observed  the  girl,  running  up  her  aunt's  steps. 
"  Do  not  refuse  me  a  little  change  of  bread  and 
butter.  I  do  not  believe  you  ever  lived  in  a  boarding- 
house  for  a  whole  year  or  you  would  not  be  so 
heartless." 

"  My  dear  child  ! "  protested  Aunt  Ann,  opening  the 
door,  "  Well,"  she  continued,  musingly,  "  I  only 
made  Kate  two  promises,  and  I  have  not  broken  eithei 
of  them,  only  you  must  surely  tell  her  to-night." 

"Very  likely  I  will,"  replied  Margery,  carelessly. 


82  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  These  are  her  busiest  days  in  the  whole  week,  aud 
we  have  not  talked  much.  To-night  she  will  come 
home  very  tired  ;  but  to-morrow  morning  we  shall  spend 
together,  and  then  I  will  break  it  to  her  gently  that  I 
have  positively  called  once  upon,  and  lunched  once 
with,  our  mother's  dear  sister,'''  and  the  speaker  gave 
Aunt  Ann  a  hug,  which  the  other  returned  with  interest. 

"  Let  us  go  into  the  parlor  and  see  how  this  satine 
is  for  width,  first,"  suggested  Margery,  and  she  un- 
folded the  largest  package,  and  spread  the  fabric  over 
the  table;  then  flinging  the  embroidery  silks  upon  it, 
the  two  fell  back  with  heads  on  the  side  and  surveyed 
the  combination  of  color. 

"It's  going  to  be  perfection,  Margery,"  announced 
Aunt  Ann,  admiringly.  As  she  spoke,  the  front  door 
opened  and  closed ;  but  she  was  so  absorbed  as  not  to 
notice  it.  Only  Margery  looked  up  and  saw  some  one 
standing  in  the  parlor  doorway.  It  was  a  very  stylish 
and  good-looking  young  man,  who  held  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  and  met  her  surprised  glance  with  interesf 
His  short  black  hair  waved  a  little  above  his  forehead. 
His  complexion  was  clear;  his  whole  appearance  hearty 
and  attractive,  notwithstanding  an  evident  extreme 
attention  to  the  latest  fashion,  a  weakness  common  to 
youth,  and  one  which  a  girl  like  Margery  is  prone  to 
pardon  if  not  endorse.  It  was  a  long  moment  during 
which  they  gazed  into  one  another's  eyes,  then  the 
stranger  came  in  and  Aunt  Ann  looked  up.  At  first 
phe  stood  mute  with  surprise,  then  : 

"  Ray  Ingalls ! "  she  exclaimed,  curtly.     "  What  art 


A   COUP   D'fiTAT.  83 

you  doing  here  this  time  of  day?  When  is  a  body 
safe  from  you  any  way  !  " 

Ray  looked  at  Margery,  who  coul.T  not  help  smiling, 
and  his  pride  was  touched. 

"  You  are  very  hearty  in  your  welcome  at  any 
rate,"  he  remarked,  advancing  and  picking  up  the 
handkerchief  Margery  dropped. 

"Here,  Ray,  here,"  said  Aunt  Ann  desperately, 
moving  little  by  little  toward  the  door,  and  beckoning 
to  him.  "  Come  out  of  the  room.  I  want  to  tell  you 
something." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Margery  demurely,  accepting 
the  handkerchief.  How  glad  she  was  that  she  had  oa 
those  beautiful  black  gloves  ! 

Aunt  Ann  stood  still  and  bit  her  lip  in  annoyance. 
She  saw  Kate's  compelling  face  and  brilliant  smile,  af 
she  stood  before  her  exacting  the  promise  which  it 
seemed  her  destiny  to  break. 

"Margery,  you  must  excuse  my  seeming  inhospt 
tality,  dear  child,  but  won't  you  please  go  home." 

Ray  flushed  as  suddenly  and  violently  as  Margery; 
but  while  the  former  darted  lightning  glances  at  Aunt 
Ann,  the  latter  demurely  started  to  obey. 

Aunt  Ann  caught  both  her  hands  and  pressed  them. 
"  I  promised  Kate  I  would  not  introduce  any  of  them." 
ehe  murmured  apologetically. 

Ray  caught  the  words,  and  his  wrath  became  dashed 
with  amusement.  Moreover,  Margery  here  sent  him  a 
glance  from  under  her  pretty  lashes,  which  was,  at 
(east,  encouraging. 


M  NEXT  DOOR. 

"  Miss  Standish  and  I  do  not  need  any  introduction,* 
i»e  said,  boldly,  with  his  best  bow.  "  I  recognized  her 
at  once ;  and  of  course  she  must  have  heard  of  the 
black  sheep  of  the  new  household." 

Margery  smiled.  She  did  not  wish  to  go,  and  she 
hesitated  to  see  if  Aunt  Ann  would  show  signs  of 
yielding.  But  no. 

"Go,  Margery;  go,  dear,"  she  urged. 

"  Wait,"  cried  Ray ;  "  there  is  no  necessity  for  such 
strenuous  measures.  I  only  came  home  to  get  some- 
thing I  had  forgotten.  I  am  going  right  upstairs," 
and,  with  a  bow  of  leavetaking,  he  strode  from  the 
room. 

"There,  that  is  good,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  in  a  tone  of 
relief,  hastening  to  unbutton  her  niece's  jacket,  and  to 
show  by  her  bustling  attentions  the  sincerity  of  her 
.pleasure  at  this  turn  of  events. 

"I  have  no  patience  with  Kate,"  saia  Margery, 
pouting,  "  for  making  things  so  awkward  for  people." 

"  No,  dear,  never  mind,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  coaxingly. 

"  It's  only  Ray,  you  know,  and  it  might  have  been 
one  of  the  older  gentlemen,  Mr.  Herring  or  Mr. 
Wiley." 

This  consideration  did  not  seem  to  convey  much 
consolation  to  Margery,  who  continued  to  look  mucb 
vexed  as  she  followed  her  aunt  down  stairs. 

They  had  not  been  long  seated  at  lunch  when  they 
heard  a  light  step  running  down  the  upper  flight. 
,  ."^  There's  Ray  going,"   observed   Aunt   Ann,  com. 
placently.     "  We're  well  rid  of  him  at  any  rate.     Com« 


A  COUP  D'ETAT.  85 

Here,  poor  Kits ;  did  I  give  him  a  bad,  wicked  nudge 
this  morning?  Well,  it's  a  shame,  and  I'll  give  you  — '' 

What  dainty  Aunt  Ann  intended  to  name  never 
transpired ;  for  at  that  point  she  heard  a  sound  that 
filled  her  with  dismay.  It  was  the  same  springy  step, 
only  now  descending  the  basement  stairs.  She  looked 
wildly  from  Margery  to  the  door  and  back  again. 

Ray  entered  sans  overcoat  and  hat,  looking  very 
serious.  Margery  in  propria  persona  he  found  even 
more  charming  than  her  picture ;  and  he  was  too  accus- 
tomed to  carry  his  point,  easily  to  give  up  such  a 
golden  opportunity  as  the  present.  He  had  not  spent 
a  summer  with  Aunt  Ann  without  discerning  her  vul- 
nerable points,  and  he  entered  the  dining-room  now 
with  his  scheme  well  laid. 

The  hostess  rose  and  pushed  her  chair  back  from  the 
table. 

"Don't  rise,  Aunt  Ann,"  he  said,  putting  out  his 
band,  calmly;  "the  fact  is,  I  am  not  feeling  quite 
right  to-day." 

"Not  well,  Ray?"  exclaimed  Aunt  Ann,  anxiously, 
etiquette  and  Kate  and  Margery  forgotten. 

"It  is  not  much.  Do  not  be  alarmed.  But  you 
remember  the  slight  affection  of  my  left  lung?" 

"Yes  indeed.  The  very  thing  that  made  your 
mother  bring  you  to  the  farm." 

"  Exactly,"  assented  Ray,  gravely.  "  I  had  a  curious 
sensation  in  my  left  side  this  morning,"  here  a  quick 
glance  at  Margery,  whose  sulks  had  suddenly  evapo« 
tated,  ''and  I  thought  it  would  be  well  for  me  to 


B6  NEXT  DOOR. 

wait  an  hour  or  two  before  returning  to  business ;  that 
is,  if  it  will  not  inconvenience  you  too  much,  Aunt 
Ann,"  he  added,  meekly.  "  I  know  you  did  not  con- 
tract to  furnish  us  witli  lunches." 

"Don't  speak  of  such  a  thing,  my  dear  boy,"  said 
the  kind  woman,  fervently,  calling  Rosalie,  and  setting 
an  extra  plate,  and  drawing  up  a  chair,  and  pouring 
out  a  cup  of  tea,  apparently  at  one  and  the  same  time. 

"  I  do  not  drink  tea,  you  know,"  he  protested. 

"Not  usually,  I  know,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  firmly ;  " but 
you  will  to-day,  for  it  is  very  sustaining.  What  doctor 
does  your  uncle  have?" 

"I  do  not  think  he  ever  had  one,"  replied  Ray, 
settling  himself  in  extraordinary  comfort,  and  smiling 
furtively  at  Margery,  who  he  at  once  perceived  saw 
through  his  little  manoeuvre  and  was  not  offended. 

"Well,  we  must  not  let  this  run  on.  You  know, 
Margery,"  appealing  to  her  niece,  "  how  important  it 
is  to  take  things  in  time." 

"  Oh,  very,"  assented  Margery. 

"How  do  you  feel  now,  Ray?  Stop  a  irunute  and 
think.  Any  of  that  sharp  pain?" 

Ray  frowned  slightly,  cast  his  fine  eyes  up  at  the 
ceiling,  and  pondered. 

"No,"  he  finally  replied ;  then  placing  a  hand  on 
his  heart  and  meeting  Aunt  Ann's  gaze,  "nothing  but 
an  unusual  heat  —  here." 

Margery  colored  violently,  and  stifled  a  laugh ;  bul 
Aunt  Ann  nodded  many  times. 

"Exactly,  Ray,  exactly.     That's  inflammation,  yof 


A  COUP  D'fiTAT.  87 

trow.  Now  you  must  be  very  quiet,  my  dear,  and  not 
talk  much." 

"  Aunt  Ann  is  very  strict,  you  see,"  said  Margery. 
"  It  seems  strange  to  me  to  hear  you  call  her  aunt,  Mr. 
Ingalls." 

"It  makes  us  cousins,  does  it  not?"  asked  Ray, 
eagerly. 

Aunt  Ann  laughed  complacently.  "You  will  have 
more  cousins  than  an  Irish  girl,  Margery,  if  you  adopt 
everybody  that  calls  me  aunt." 

"I  should  want  to  make  my  own  choice,"  said 
Margery. 

"Put  me  in  your  select  assortment,  will  you  not?" 
begged  Ray. 

"You  may  consider  yourself  on  trial,"  she  replied. 
"  I  hear  you  ai-e  a  nephew  of  Mr.  Exton's." 

"Yes.  Do  you  know  him?  Oh,  I  remember  he  said 
he  had  met  you  once." 

"Yes,"  said  Margery,  laughing;  "I  think  he  will 
remember  it." 

"  Naturally,"  remarked  Ray,  gallantly. 

"  Aunt  Ann,  your  nephew  is  very  polite,"  said  the 
girl,  mischievously. 

"Ray?  Oh,  yes,  Ray  knows  how  to  behave  when 
he  wants  to,"  replied  Aunt  Ann.  approvingly. 

The  young  people  exchanged  a  sympathetic  look 
and  smile,  Ray  becoming  with  each  moment  more  and 
oiore  the  slave  of  Margery's  vivacious  charms. 

"Tell  me  what  made  the  meeting  so  memorable  f 
floes  thereby  hang  a  tale?" 


88  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  as  long  as  a  train  of  cars ;  but  I  will 
not  tell  it.  It  is  too  ridiculous.  I  do  not  know  you 
\vell  enough." 

"Oh,  do.  If  Uncle  John  w?s  ever  in  a  ridiculous 
situation  I  want  to  hear  about  it.  I  can't  imagine  it. 
You  know  he  is  one  of  these  fellows  that  never  is 
ridiculous." 

"Of  course  he  never  could  be,"  said  Margery,  warmly. 
"  The  situation  was  ridiculous,  but  he  dignified  it  as 
much  as  anybody  could.  He  was  perfectly  lovely." 

"  Oh,  he  was ! "  said  Ray,  not  relishing  this  sweep- 
ing praise  of  his  kinsman,  a  state  of  mind  which  Mar- 
gery  perceived  with  the  quickness  of  her  sex.  Her 
unconscious  purpose  now  was  to  charm  Ray,  not  to 
tease  him;  so  she  immediately  took  measures  to  banish 
the  cloud  from  his  brow.  The  first  measure  was  a  flat- 
tering glance,  hitherto  untried,  which  nature  taught 
her  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  whose  effect  was 
all  she  could  wish. 

"You  must  not  mind  my  not  telling  you  about  it 
until  —  until  we  are  better  acquainted,  will  you?" 

"  No,  on  condition  that  we  become  better  acquainted 
very  fast  indeed,"  he  returned. 

"  How  curious  men  are !  "  observed  Margery,  mus- 
ingly- 

"  Don't  you  think  you  are  talking  too  much,  Ray?" 

asked  Aunt  Ann. 

"No  wonder  you  would  like  to  strike  me  dumb," 
returned  Ray,  with  a  significant  nod  in  her  direction 
"  How  long  since  you  turned  burglaress,  Aunt  Ann  ?  " 


A  COUP  D'ETAT.  89 

"Turned  what?" 

Ray  met  her  gaze  with  an  accusing  look.  "Just 
now,  upstairs,  I  found  that  one  of  my  gloves  had  dis- 
appeared." 

Aunt  Ann  stared  at  him  for  a  moment;  then  his 
meaning  dawned  upon  her. 

"Yes,  you  did,"  she  returned,  decidedly,  "and,  what 
is  more,  it  has  disappeared  for  good  " ;  and  hereupon 
she  frowned  warningly  at  him,  and  shook  her  head. 

"Miss  Standish,  may  I  tell  you  a  romantic  story 
with  a  sad  ending?"  pursued  Ray,  daringly. 

"  Make  the  ending  happy,  please." 

"I  cannot  do  that.  Perhaps  somebody  else  can. 
Listen.  Yesterday  I  found  a  glove.  It  was  a  small 
glove,  and  very  attractive.  Aunt  Ann,  the  evil  genius 
of  the  story,  refused  to  tell  me  about  its  owner.  J 
then  secreted  it,  intending  at  some  near  day  to  sec 
forth,  like  the  prince  in  Cinderella,  and  find  the  hand 
that  it  fitted.  Now  the  evil  genius  has  made  off  with 
the  glove,  and  —  well,  that  is  all.  No  wonder  the 
shock  of  the  loss  was  sufficient  to  induce  heart  dis- 
ease —  I  mean  lung  trouble." 

"Poor  prince!"  said  Margery,  with  a  dancing  light 
in  her  blue  eyes.  "  But  doesn't  somebody  say  some- 
where that  all  things  come  to  him  who  knows  how  to 
wait  for  them?" 

Ray,  glowing  with  pleasure,  looked  quickly  down  at 
ihe  hand  next  him.  Its  contour  and  color  did  not  dis- 
appoint him. 

Aunt  Ann  viewed   the  couple  complacently.     She 


90  NEXT   BOOK. 

had  a  vague  idea  that  Ray  had  smoothed  over  tha 
affair  of  the  glove  very  gracefully. 

"  I  don't  think  you  feel  very  badly  now,"  she  said  to 
him,  with  kind  concern,  "  although  you  haven't  eaten 
enough  for  a  bird." 

"What  kind  of  a  bird — an  ostrich?"  asked  Ray, 
laughingly.  "Oh,  no,  I  do  not  feel  badly;  but  this 
inflammation,"  touching  his  side,  "is  not  allayed." 

"How  long  does  it  usually  last?"  asked  Aunt  Ann, 
looking  anxiously  at  him  over  her  spectacles. 

"  Usually  about  a  week ;  but  I  think  this  is  different. 
I  feel,"  he  added  audaciously,  "  as  though  it  were 
about  to  become  chronic." 

"  What  a  terrible  flirt,"  thought  Margery,  smiling 
into  her  cup  of  tea  as  though  she  saw  something  very 
amusing  there. 

"Oh,  don't  say  that,  dear.  Nobody  at  your  age 
ought  to  be  discouraged  about  their  health.  Does 
lung  trouble  run  in  your  family?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  returned  Ray,  recklessly.  "There 
has  never  been  a  man  in  my  father's  family  that  didn't 
have  a  lobe  in  his  left  lung." 

"You  —  don't  say  so!"  ejaculated  Aunt  Ann,  set- 
ting down  her  teacup.  "  Margery,  how  can  you  laugh. 
You  must  excuse  her,  Ray.  She's  too  young  and 
flighty  to  know  anything  about  real  trouble.  Doei 
your  uncle  John  know  that?" 

<;Yes." 

**  And  does  he  think  it's  safe  for  you  to  be  in  busi 
ttess  all  the  same  ?  " 


A  COUP   D'fcTAT.  91 

"  He  has  no  appearance  of  worrying  about  me.  You 
know,  Aunt  Ann,  we  are  a  long-lived  family  in  spite 
of  it.  I  am  a  little  sensitive  on  the  subject,  so  pleas-3 
don't  mention  it  to  any  one." 

The  hostess  fixed  her  kind  eyes  upon  him  in  a  look 
of  sympathy,  which  should  have  burned  his  brazen 
young  face. 

"  To  change  the  subject,  Aunt  Ann,"  he  continued, 
"  you  know  this  young  lady  better  than  I  do.  How 
ought  I  to  ask  her  to  allow  me  to  come  in  with  you 
Borne  evening  and  call  upon  her?" 

"  That  is  perfectly  impossible,"  responded  Aunt 
Ann,  decidedly  ;  "  so  don't  ask  it,  Kay." 

The  latter  glanced  at  Margery.  "  Even  if  I  behave 
BO  well  as  to  enter  the  list  of  cousins?" 

"  I  have  a  stern  sister,"  explained  Margery.  "  I  do 
not  receive  calls." 

"  Ah,  you  are  not  out  yet?" 

"  As  far  as  I  ever  shall  be,  I  fear." 

"  Then  I  will  call  upon  your  sister,"  suggested  Ray, 
delighted  with  his  bright  thought. 

"  Even  more  impossible,"  said  Margery,  shaking  her 
head.  "  Aunt  Ann,  fancy  Kate  if  Mr.  Ingalls  were  to 
call  her  cousin  !  " 

Aunt  Ann  shuddered.  Her  ease  and  complacency 
deserted  her.  She  fidgeted  in  her  chair.  Poor  Aunt 
A.nn!  She  felt  miserably  beset. 

"  Ray,"  she  said  shortly,  "  do  you  feel  able  to  go 
back  to  business  this  afternoon?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  following  Aunt  Ann's  example  and  push* 


92  NEXT   DOOE. 

ing  his  chair  back  from  the  table.     "  I  feel  like  a 
rior  refreshed." 

"  Then  I  think  you  had  better  go  at  once." 

"  Well,  that  is  right  to  the  point.  When,"  looking 
at  Aunt  Ann  appealingly,  "  shall  we  three  meet 
again  ?  " 

"  Not  until  Kate  Standish  kno\vs  it,  and  sanctions 
it,"'  returned  Aunt  Ann,  speaking  more  sonorously 
than  mortal  had  ever  heard  her  speak  before. 

Margery  looked  at  Ray  with  a  comical  but  flatter- 
ing little  si<?h  of  regret,  and  held  out  her  hand. 

O  O  O  ' 

"Then  it  is  a  long  farewell,"  she  said. 

"  Do  not  say  that,  Miss  Standish,"  he  exclaimed 
quickly,  as  he  took  the  hand. 

"  Ray  Ingalls,  go  down  town,"  ordered  Aunt  Ann, 
all  in  a  flutter;  "  and  take  care  of  yourself,  dear,"  phe 
added  remorsefully. 

"  Au  revoir"  said  that  wicked  Margery,  with  a 
glance  no  less  reprehensible  than  the  hope  she  held 
out. 

Ray  smiled,  flushed,  pressed  her  hand,  released  it, 
and  at  last  departed. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MARGERY'S  CONFESSION. 

"  You  are  such  a  procrastinator,  Margery,  that  1 
don't  half  trust  you,"  were  Aunt  Ann's  parting  words 
to  her  niece,  when  the  girl  finally  took  her  leave  on 
that  afternoon.  "  I  want  to  see  Kate,  any  way.  I 
think  I'll  come  in  to-morrow  morning,  and  see  if  you 
have  told  her." 

"  Very  well,  I  hope  you  will,"  was  Margery's  laugh- 
ing response. 

That  evening  when  Kate  came  home  she  looked 
very  tired,  and  replied  in  monosyllables  to  her  sister's 
questions.  After  dinner  the  two  went  up  to  their 
room,  and  Kate  lay  down  on  the  bed.  It  was  the  regu- 
lar programme  for  her  to  rest  thus  on  this  evening  of 
the  week,  while  Margery  read  to  her;  so  the  latter 
immediately  brought  a  book  and  seated  herself. 

"  What  makes  you  so  unusually  sparkling  to-night, 
little  sister?"  asked  Kate,  with  languid  curiosity. 
"  Has  it  been  a  pleasant  day  for  you  ?  " 

"  Very ;  but  now  you  must  be  quiet,  and  give  your- 
self up  to  rest,"  and  Margery  began  in  a  business-like 
fashioa  to  read. 

03 


94  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  Never  mind  for  a  few  minutes,  Margery,"  inter, 
rupted  the  other;  "I  want  to  talk  a  little.  I  imagine 
from  your  looks  that  you  will  be  more  interesting  than 
anybody's  essays  to-night.  Has  Aunt  Ann  been  here?" 

"  No,"  replied  Margery,  without  giving  herself  time 
to  dread  the  disclosure,  "I  have  been  there.  I  saw 
Aunt  Ann  go  into  the  next  house  yesterday  morning. 
Why,"  she  continued  adroitly,  "  did  you  try  to  deceive 
me?" 

"I  wanted  time  to  think,  Margery.  So  you  have 
been  there?" 

"Yes,  twice.  Yesterday  and  to-day,"  replied  the 
other,  slowly  coloring  under  Kate's  steady  regard. 

"  You  ought  to  have  told  me  last  night." 

"You  ought  to  have  told  me  yesterday  noon,"  re- 
torted Margery,  trying  to  nurse  a  sustaining  sensation 
of  injury.  "  You  cannot  treat  me  like  a  baby  any 
more,- Kate,  and  you  need  not  try." 

"  And  Aunt  Ann  invited  you  to  come  again  to-day  ?  " 

"  She  invited  me  to  go  down  town  with  her  this 
morning  and  buy  material  for  a  table-scarf,  which  I 
am  going  to  embroider  for  her,  and  then  invited  us 
both  to  lunch." 

"  Ah,  she  thought  you  had  told  me,"  said  Kate,  in  a 
gratified  tone.  "  I  am  glad  she  thought  that." 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  scolded  me  because  I  hadn't.  I  told 
her  you  could  not  come  to  lunch  anyway." 

"But  you  lunched  with  her?  " 

«  Yes." 

**  None  of  her  family  come  home  at  noon  ?  " 


MARGERY'S  CONFESSION.  96 

"No;  not  usually,"  and  Margery  smiled  involinta* 
rily,  and  blushed  again. 

Kate  looked  at  her  steadily.  It  was  a  wonder,  the 
power  possessed  by  those  lovely  dark  eyes.  They 
seemed  to  Margery  to  draw  her  inmost  thoughts  up, 
out,  into  sight.  In  vain  she  pouted  under  their  gaze, 
scoffed  mentally  at  Kate's  youth,  and  recalled  her  own 
right  to  govern  her  actions  according  to  her  own  judg. 
ment.  They  held  her  firmly,  and  compelled  her. 

"  But  to-day  it  was  different,"  she  said  reluctantly. 

"  What  happened  ?  "  asked  Kate  encouragingly. 

"One  of  them  came  home." 

"Ah!     Which  was  it?" 

«  The  boy." 

'-*  That  is  good,"  said  the  other,  in  a  tone  of  relief. 

"  But,"  said  Margery,  slowly,  "  he  is  not  much  of  a 
boy  —  that  is,  he  is  a  great  deal  of  a  boy.  I  mean  he 
is  grown  up.  He  is  tall,  and  he  is  nearly  twenty-two.'* 

"Did  Aunt  Ann  break  her  word  with  me?" 

"  No,  she  sent  me  home,"  replied  Margery,  glad  to 
adopt  again  an  accusing  tone.  "Very  agreeable  for 
rne.  Thank  you  for  putting  me  in  such  a  pleasant 
position." 

"  It  seems  you  were  able  to  extricate  yourself  from 
it.  You  stayed." 

"  I  did,  because  Mr.  Ingalls  said  he  was  going  right 
back  to  the  office." 

"  And  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  then,"  and  Margery  blushed  again,  "  he 
<:ame  down  stairs  after  we  were  at  the  table,  and  said 


96  NEXT   DOOR. 

he  was  not  feeling  well,  or  something  like  that,  and— « 
and  so  he  stayed."  She  looked  up  at  the  close  of  hef 
confession.  Kate's  eyes  were  shut,  and  her  face  looked 
statuesquely  lovely,  with  the  long,  dark  lashes  lying 
on  her  pale  cheek. 

"Sweeo  thing,"  thought  Margery,  "how  tired  she 
is !  How  much  she  does  for  me  !  How  much  I  ought 
to  try  to  please  her ! " 

"  Kate,  you  would  like  Mr.  Ingalls,"  she  said,  softly 
and  eagerly;  "and  he  is  Mr.  Exton's  nephew.  Mr. 
Exton  dined  there  last  night." 

Kate  opened  her  eyes,  and  fixed  them  thoughtfully 
on  Margery's  face. 

"Do  you  think  this  will  lead  to  a  better  acquaint- 
ance  with  him?"  she  asked. 

"I  should  think  it  might.  Why  should  we  not  hope 
BO?  Why  should  we  not  live,  rather  than  vegetate?" 

"Margery,  it  makes  me  sad  to  see  you  so  sanguine, 
dear.  Supposing  you  meet  Mr.  Exton  through  this 
avenue.  Do  you  know  how  you  will  appear  to  him? 
As  the  niece  of  this  Ray's  housekeeper,  a  poor  girl, 
living  shabbily,  who  possibly  makes  a  visit  to  her  aunt 
the  excuse  for  enjoying  the  society  of  the  frequenters 
of  the  house.  Never  let  it  be  said  of  you,  Margery, 
never  let  it  be  said  of  you  ! "  Kate  finished  in  a  tone 
of  positive  pain. 

Margery,  very  pale,  confronted  her  in  silence  foi 
half  a  minute. 

"  I  see  ! "  she  exclaimed  then.  "  This  is  your  lesson 
day.  You  have  seen  Madam  Sevrance.  You  hava 


HARGERY'S  CONFESSION.  97 

told  her  about  Aunt  Ann.  She  has  held  up  before 
you  all  sorts  of  horrors  to  be  apprehended.  You 
never,  left  to  yourself,  would  have  thought  of  that 
which  you  have  just  said  to  me.  I  hate  that  woman. 
I  hate  her  !  "  and  Margery  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears 
and  sobs. 

Kate  gathered  her  into  her  arms  and  soothed  her, 
laying  her  own  white  cheek  against  the  flushed  one, 
waiting  patiently  for  the  storm  to  be  over.  At  last  all 
was  quiet,  and  she  spoke  again  : 

"  Now,  dear,  you  know  where  Aunt  Ann  lives ;  you 
have  visited  her,  you  have  lunched  with  one  of  these 
strange  men,  and  he  has  pleased  you  very  much.  The 
Rubicon  is  passed,  and  you  are  liable  to  do  the  game 
thing  again  at  any  time." 

"  As  if  I  ever  could  go  in  there  after  the  cruel,  cruel 
thing  you  said ! "  exclaimed  Margery,  indignantly. 

Kate  kissed  the  speaker  affectionately.  "Oh,  no, 
the  wound  is  not  so  deep.  In  a  few  days  you  will 
have  forgotten  the  words;  but  I  hope  a  restraining 
influence  will  remain.  I  never  again  will  liide  any- 
thing from  you,  Margery.  It  is,  as  you  say,  treating 
you  too  much  like  a  child.  You  are  my  dear  little 
partner,  and  we  must  be  perfectly  open  with  each 
other.  When  I  see  how  you  blossom  under  a  good 
time  such  as  you  have  had  to-day,  it  makes  me  wish 
you  might  have  the  right  sort  of  a  one  often.  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  not  to  urge  you  to  do  this,  or  to 
refrain  from  doing  that,  any  more.  You  must  judge  for 
yourself  when  anJ  how  often  to  visit  the  next  house." 


98  NEXT  DOOR. 

"And  you  are  very  much  afraid  to  let  me,  too," 
grumbled  Margery. 

"You  are  mistaken.  I  want  you  to  know  that  it 
would  be  very  easy  for  your  conduct  to  appear  ques« 
tionable  to  those  very  gentlemen,  —  I  think  they  prob- 
ably are  gentlemen,  as  Aunt  Ann  says  Mr.  Exton 
chose  them,  —  who  will  like  you,  and  be  kind  to  you, 
and  flatter  you  if  you  let  them.  After  you  once  com- 
prehend that,  and  agree  to  it,  I  am  not  at  all  afraid  ; 
for,  in  all  Boston,  I  believe  there  is  not  a  more  perfect- 
lady  from  the  crown  of  her  head  to  the  sole  of  her 
foot  than  my  sister  Margery." 

Margery  glowed  all  over  with  pleasure  at  this  rare 
praise,  and  vowed  to  deserve  it.  "Oh,  Kate,"  she 
said,  after  a  pause,  "  I  gave  Aunt  Ann  your  picture 
with  mine.  I  thought  you  would  not  care.  Her 
room  was  so  bare." 

"  That  was  right.  Are  you  making  the  scarf  for  her 
room  ?  " 

"  No,  for  the  parlor ;  but  it  will  be  hers,  you  know. 
Shall  you  not  visit  her  soon  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Kate,  "  probably  to-morrow.  You 
liked  Aunt  Ann's  boy?" 

"Yes,  indeed.  He  wanted  to  come  with  Aunt  Ann 
and  call  upon  us  some  time ;  but  I  told  him  you  would 
not  like  it." 

"No,  I  should  not  like  it,"  replied  Kate,  com- 
posedly. 

"  You  would,"  said  Margery,  in  her  vehement 
wray,  **if  you  would  just  stop  a  minute  and  b» 


MARGERY'S  CONFESSION.  99 

Kate  Standish  instead  of  the  responsible  sister  of 
Margery." 

Kate  laughed.  "  Well,  when  I  stop  being  the  sister 
of  Margery,  I  will  try  him." 

It  was  quite  a  relief  to  Aunt  Ann  the  following 
morning,  when  she  called  upon  her  nieces,  to  find  that 
Margery  had  been  faithful,  and  that  Kate  was  in  full 
possession  of  the  facts  in  the  case. 

"I'll  never  make  you  another  promise,  Kate,  you 
may  be  certain,"  she  said.  "  I  kept  both  of  those,  but 
what  good  did  it  do?  Margery  came  walking  right  in 
there,  and  I  couldn't  pretend  I  wasn't  pleased,  and, 
although  I  never  introduced  Ray  to  her,  there  they 
were  yesterday  chatting  together  as  sociably  as  two 
Bparrows,  and  small  harm,  I  think " ;  and  Aunt  Ann 
. aughed  comfortably. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  Kate  went  into  the  next 
house,  and  even  carried  her  complaisance  so  far  as  to 
sit  down  at  Mr.  Wiley's  piano  and  sing  a  ballad  in  a 
way  to  make  Aunt  Ann  wipe  her  eyes,  enraptured. 

"I  wonder  why  you  girls  wouldn't  come  in  to  dinner 
some  night?  They  would  be  so  carried  away  with  the 
music  and  all,"  asked  the  latter  wistfully. 

"Don't  you  see  that  we  couldn't  do  that,  Aunt 
Ann?"  said  Kate,  gently ;  and  Margery  echoed  with  a 
wistful  sigh. 

"  Oh,  no,  we  couldn't  do  that." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  LITTLE  DIFFERENCE. 

MARGERY  was  really  impressed  by  that  conversation 
her  sister.  She  reviewed  her  experience  with 
Hay  Ingalls ;  and  while  she  laughed  over  and  enjoyed 
the  remembrance  of  his  audacity,  she  honestly  decided 
that  there  must  be  no  more  happenings  of  that  sort 
which  she  could  avoid.  It  required  considerable  de- 
termination to  make  such  a  resolution,  for  she  craved, 
in  her  monotonous  life,  just  such  spice  as  the  attention 
and  society  of  that  young  gentleman  would  bring  into 
it;  and  if  she  were  to  abide  by  her  inclinations,  his 
opportunities  of  meeting  her  would  be  frequent. 
However,  even  the  latitude  of  little  daytime  visits 
to  Aunt  Ann  was  a  welcbme  variety  of  which  she 
often  availed  herself,  sometimes  accompanied  by  Kate, 
but  more  often  alone. 

Ray  Ingalls,  in  the  flush  of  pleasure  consequent  upon 
lunching  with  Margery,  was  so  imprudent,  when  he 
returned  to  the  office,  as  to  confide  the  whole  experi- 
ence to  his  bosom  friend  Sharp,  who  listened  with  con- 
eentrated  interest. 

100 


A  LITTLE  DIFFERENCE.  101 

"  You  humbug  !  You  impostor !  "  exclaimed  the 
latter,  at  the  close  of  the  recital.  "  Is  she  as  pretty 
as  her  picture?" 

"A  thousand  times  prettier,"  responded  Ray,  en- 
thusiastically. 

"  H'm !  "  said  Mr.  Sharp,  and  said  no  more ;  but 
about  noon  of  every  day,  for  some  time  thereafter,  he 
kept  strict  watch  upon  his  deskmate,  and,  whenever 
Ray  made  quiet  preparations  to  slip  out  of  the  office 
unobserved,  he  would  say : 

"  Here,  hold  on.  I'll  be  with  you  in  a  minute,"  and 
Ray  would  hesitate,  then  obey  with  a  very  bad  grace ; 
while  Sharp,  pulling  on  his  overcoat,  would  pmother 
his  laughter  as  best  he  could. 

One  day  the  usual  programme  had  been  carried  out, 
and  the  pair  had  set  out  for  luncheon  ;  but  on  the  way 
to  their  favorite  restaurant  Ray  suddenly  stopped. 

"  By  the  way,  Sharp,  I  want  to  go  up  to  the  house  for 
something.  Excuse  me,  that's  a  good  fellow.  Here's  a 
car  coming  now.  I  shall  be  back  as  soon  as  you  are." 

"Yes,  I  know  you  will,"  replied  Mr.  Sharp,  sweetly, 
boarding  the  car  after  him.  '"What  shall  part  ug 
from  each  other?'" 

"  What  do  you  want?"  asked  Ray,  roughly. 

"  I  want  to  see  her,  too,  Baby.  Do  not  speak  so 
unkindly  to  me,"  and  Mr.  Sharp  smiled  exasperatingly. 

"  I  don't  know  that  she'll  be  there." 

"  No,  but  you  think  she  will,  from  what  Miss  Eaton 
said  this  morning.  I  think  so,  too,  my  boy;  so  let  us 
go  together,  amicably,  hand  in  hand." 


102  NEXT   DOOR. 

Ray  glowered  for  a  moment,  then  burst  into  a 
reluctant  laugh.  "All  right,  Ted,  only  I  hope 
you  have  your  excuse.  I  forgot  to  bring  an  im- 
portant letter  that  has  to  be  mailed.  I  left  it  on  my 
table.'1 

After  this  the  couple  of  friends  were  silent  until 
they  reached  their  destination.  Ray  thought  over  the 
delightful  adventure  of  a  week  ago.  He  had  met 
Margery  the  following  day  on  the  street.  She  had 
smiled  and  bowed  to  him  cordially ;  but  had  passed 
without  speaking,  and  he  was  eager  to  see  her  again. 
Although  at  first  he  had  grudged  Sharp  a  meeting 
with  her,  now  he  rather  anticipated  her  effect  upon 
him,  and  felt  a  pride  in  letting  his  friend  see  how  cor- 
dial were  his  relations  with  the  pretty  girl  whom  lie 
claimed  as  his  own  discovery. 

Hoping  and  fearing,  he  ran  up  the  steps  of  the  house, 
closely  pursued  by  Mr.  Sharp.  He  opened  the  door 
quietly,  and  immediately  a  re-assuring  sound  broke 
upon  his  ear.  It  was  Margery's  peculiarly  merry  and 
contagious  laugh.  He  cast  one  brilliant  look  of  satis- 
faction at  his  friend,  and  then  they  went  in. 

Ray  opened  the  parlor  door.  Aunt  Ann  and  Mar- 
gery were  sitting  together  there,  the  former  with  a  large 
basket  of  clean  socks  in  her  lap,  one  of  which  she  was 
darning  industriously.  Margery  was  putting  the  fin- 
ishing touches  to  the  beautiful  piece  of  work  that  was 
to  decorate  the  table.  They  both  looked  up  upon  the 
entrance  of  the  young  gentlemen. 

"Well,  who  would  have  expected  to  see  you  two 


A  LITTLE   DIFFERENCE.  103 

walk  in?"  said  Aunt  Ann,  complacently  glancing  up 
over  her  spectacles. 

Ray,  looking  eagerly  at  Margery,  made  no  answer. 
She  had  colored  at  the  sound  of  the  closing  of  the 
front  door,  instantly  suspecting  that  Ray  had  arrived, 
and  knowing  that  it  was  she  who  had  brought  him. 
A  warm  sensation  of  flattered  pride  tilled  her  for  an 
instant ;  then  Ray  walked  in  with  his  tall,  sandy-haired 
companion.  At  first  she  reproached  herself  for  her 
vanity,  thinking  that  it  was  the  arrival  of  some  stran- 
ger, to  whom  he  wished  to  show  hospitality,  that  had 
brought  Ray  at  an  unseemly  hour;  but  she  was  soon 
undeceived.  Aunt  Ann  continued  blandly: 

"Margery,  my  niece,  Miss  Standish,  Mr.  Sharp." 

So  this  was  the  "  young  man."  Margery  drew  her- 
self up  with  a  hauteur  which  Kate  could  not  have 
exceeded,  as  she  recognized  his  respectful  salutation. 

"Plow  do  you  do,  Mr.  Ingalls?"  she  said,  in  reply  to 
the  latter's  bright  greeting. 

A  mortifying  idea  had  flashed  upon  her  ;  one  which 
would  never  have  found  entrance  to  her  mind  were  it 
not  for  Madam  Sevrance's  worldly  wisdom  filtering 
through  Kate  into  her  unwilling  ears.  Its  truth  im- 
pressed her  with  conviction.  She  was  sufficiently 
indignant  for  one  minute  to  suit  the  sternest  guardian. 
Her  cheeks  burned  as  she  rose  quietly  and  folded  up 
her  work. 

"I  forgot  an  important  letter,"  said  Ray,  sending 
uneasy  glances  at  Margery  as  he  spoke.  She  looked 
pretty  enough,  there  was  no  trouble  about  that;  but 


104  NEXT   DOOR. 

it  did  not  seem  as  though  he  were  going  to  impress 
Sharp  with  the  excellent  terms  upon  which  he  stood 
with  her.  "  I  left  it  on  the  table  in  my  room,"  he 
added,  still  endeavoring  to  catch  Margery's  eye. 

"  And  I,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  seriously  regarding  Miss 
Eaton,  "thought  I  would  come  home  and  see  how 
Kits  was." 

"  Kits ! "  ejaculated  Aunt  Ann,  "  why,  there's  noth- 
ing the  matter  with  Kits,  is  there?  Good  gracious, 
Mr.  Sharp!" 

"  Don't  you  remember  we  spoke  of  his  seeming  dull 
and  out  of  sorts  this  morning?  Perhaps  it  was  only 
because  he  had  killed  all  the  rats,  and  was  sighing  for 
fresh  victims." 

Kits  himself,  sauntering  into  the  room  in  the  fresh- 
est of  gray  ribbons,  attracted  his  mistress's  admiring 
eyes. 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Sharp,  to  take  so 
much  notice ;  but  you  see  for  yourself  that  he  is  all 
right  now." 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  glad,"  responded  the  young  man, 
to  whom  Kits  walked  majestically,  submitting  to  have 
his  head  scratched  by  that  assiduous  diplomat. 

Mr.  Sharp  turned  to  Margery.  "  You  should  per- 
suade your  aunt  to  lend  you  this  invaluable  animal, 
Miss  Standish,  to  rid  your  house  of  vermin." 

"Indeed?  It  would  be  very  kind  of  you  to  make 
the  suggestion  to  my  landlady,"  returned  Margery, 
curtly,  without  a.  glance  in  the  direction  of  the 
speaker. 


A   LITTLE   DIFFEKENCE.  105 

Aunt  Ann  was  still  looking  attentively  at  Kits. 
"Now  you're  here,  Mr.  Sharp  and  Ray,"  she  said, 
kindly,  "  take  off  your  coats  and  stay  to  lunch.  There 
isn't  much,  but  Margery  and  I  were  going  to  have  a 
cup  of  tea." 

Ray  accepted  the  invitation  with  thanks;  but  con. 
tinued  to  send  anxious  glances  at  Margery,  whose  eyes 
occasionally  met  his  with  complete  indifference.  Mr. 
Sharp  still  sat  bewildered  under  his  rebuff. 

The  girl  had  her  work  folded  now,  and  immediately 
walked  to  the  door.  "It  is  possible  Kate  may  come 
home  to  lunch  to-day,  Aunt  Ann,"  she  said ;  "  I  have 
decided  to  be  there  in  case  she  does.  I  can  run  in 
here  any  time,  you  know ;  and  now  you  have  company, 
you  will  not  need  me." 

"  Oh,  no,  Margery,  —  do  you  think  you  ought  to  go?" 

"Yes.  Do  not  come  up  with  me.  I  can  find  my 
things  alone  perfectly  well." 

But  Aunt  Ann  insisted  upon  going  up  stairs  with  her, 
and  the  two  young  men  were  left  alone,  staring  at  each 
other  in  an  unenviable  frame  of  mind. 

"Was  this  —  was  this  the  progi'amme  you  intended, 
Ray?"  asked  Mr.  Sharp. 

"Good  gracious!"  ejaculated  the  other,  miserably. 
••What  has  happened?  What  is  wrong?" 

"Why,  Miss  Standish  has  gone  up  stairs  to  put  on 
her  things  to  go  home,  instead  of  remaining  to  make 
herself  agreeable  to  us  during  lunch  time,"  explain &\ 
Mr.  Sharp,  mildly. 

"Hold  your  tongue,"  exclaimed  Ray. 


106  NEXT   DOOR. 

"If  that  is  the  way  you  receive  a  civil  answer,  you 
can  have  the  conversation  all  to  yourself,"  remarked 
the  other,  equably.  "  One  question  more,  since  we  are 
in  for  it ;  what  time  do  they  have  lunch  at  this  cara- 
vansary ?  Miss  Standish's  snub  has,  unfortunately,  not 
deprived  me  of  my  appetite." 

"  But  we  have  driven  her  away,  Ted,"  said  Ray,  in 
distress.  "  She  went  because  we  came." 

His  companion  smiled.  "  Yes,  I  perceived  that  my- 
self." 

"But  why  should  she?" 

Mr.  Sharp  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  gave  a  self- 
satisfied  glance  toward  the  mirror.  "There's  no 
accounting  for  tastes,"  he  replied,  with  a  jaunty  air. 
which  he  suddenly  relinquished.  "At  the  same  time," 
he  added,  "I  feel  rather  small,  —  a  sort  of  aright-man- 
in-the-wrong-place  feeling,  you  know." 

"I  cannot  even  be  sure  that  I  am  the  right  man," 
returned  Ray,  with  feeble  pleasantry.  "  One  thing  is 
certain,"  he  continued,  emphatically,  "this  is  the  last 
of  hanging  around  the  house  in  the  daytime,  —  like 
Kits,  there,"  and  he  raised  the  cat  slightly  on  the  toe 
of  his  boot,  an  indignity  which  the  respectable  animal 
resented  with  a  "meow"  of  surprise.  At  the  same 
moment,  the  rustle  of  women's  skirts  was  heard  on 
the  staircase,  the  front  door  slammed,  and  Aunt  Ann 
appeared,  her  cheerful  countenance  bright  as  ever. 

"We'll  walk  right  down,  young  men,"  she  said, 
"  Rosalie  will  be  ready  for  us,  and  I  dare  say  you're  in 
a  hurrv." 


A  LITTLE  DIFFERENCE.  107 

"This  is  an  imposition,  Aunt  Ann,"  said  Ray, 
warmly,  "and  one  that  you  shall  not  suffer  from 
again." 

"I  am  very  sorry  we  frightened  Miss  Standish 
away,"  added  Mr.  Sharp,  politely. 

Aunt  Ann  laughed.  "Oh,  girls  are  notional,"  she 
said.  "She  don't  stay  very  often,  though  I  thought 
she  would  to-day." 

But  Ray  was  far  from  being  consoled,  and  made  but 
a  morose  third  at  Aunt  Ann's  cosey  table. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  partition,  Margery,  very 
red-cheeked,  consumed  her  bread  and  butter  and 
apple  sauce  in  quite  as  gloomy  a  spirit.  She  went 
directly  to  her  room  after  lunch,  and  took  out  some 
sewing,  at  which  she  worked  for  some  time  with  sur- 
prising industry.  Her  thoughts,  unpleasing  as  they 
were,  absorbed  her,  until  a  knock  at  her  door,  about 
four  o'clock,  interrupted  them. 

Answering  the  call,  a  note  and  a  square  pasteboard 
box  were  put  into  her  hands.  In  surprise  she  closed 
the  door,  set  the  box  on  a  chair,  and  opened  the  note. 
It  read  as  follows :  — 

DEAR  Miss  STANDISH,  —  I  am  so  unhappy  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  having  offended  you  that  I  cannot  resist  writing 
immediately  to  ask  you  to  tell  me  what  I  have  done.  Until 
J  receive  your  answer  I  shall  not  know  a  comfortable 
moment.  Do  have  the  charity  to  leave  a  note  for  me  with 
your  aunt  if  I  may  not  come  in  and  see  you.  I  am  eager 
to  apologize,  or  to  do  anything  else  that  will  restore  me  to 
four  favor.  Yours  hopefully, 

RAY  INGALLS. 


108  NEXT   DOOR. 

As  Margery  read  this,  her  cheeks  flamed  redder. 

"  There  is  no  ground  for  your  hopefulness,  Mr.  In- 
galls," she  murmured,  and  then  turned  her  attention 
to  the  box.  Removing  the  cover  and  a  layer  of  cot- 
ton, her  eyes  were  greeted  by  beautiful  roses,  red, 
yellow,  white,  and  pink,  freshly  cut,  with  long  stems, 
and  green  leaves. 

A  delighted  exclamation  burst  from  her  lips,  and 
she  fell  on  her  knees  before  them  in  eager  pleasure. 
No  one  had  ever  sent  her  flowers  before.  It  was  so 
long  since  she  had  owned  a  rose  in  the  winter !  Ray 
Ingalls  would  have  been  elated  could  he  have  seen  the 
reception  of  his  gift,  one  which  would  not  stir  the 
pulses  of  a  young  lady  in  society,  but  which  brought 
to  Margery  temporary  forgetfulness  of  every  disagree- 
able feature  of  her  life. 

She  was  still  arranging  the  lovely  blossoms  when 
her  sister  came  home,  and  she  laughed  outright  at  the 
blank  wonder  expressed  in  the  latter's  face. 

"Where  did  they  come  from?"  asked  Kate. 

"Mr.  Ingalls  sent  them  just  now." 

"  I  wonder  what  he  did  that  for." 

"  Might  he  not  send  me  flowers  simply  from  polite 
ness?"  asked  Margery.  The  note  was  safe  in  hev 
pocket,  and  she  had  nearly  forgotten  it  until  Kate  spoke 

"He  might,  still  it  is  an  unusual  attention  from  om 
who  is  so  nearly  a  stranger.  Did  you  lunch  with  Aun* 
Ann?" 

"No,  I  intended  to  do  so,  but  Mr.  Ingalls  cam« 
home,  and  I,  —  I  came  home,  too." 


A  LITTLE   DIFFERENCE.  109 

Margery  tried  to  speak  lightly,  but  her  lips  trem- 
bled. She  did  not  intend  to  take  Kate  into  her  con- 
fidence, neither  did  she  intend  to  alleviate  Mr.  Kay 
Ingalls'  sufferings.  "Let  him  suffer,"  she  thought, 
hard-heartedly.  "If  he  really  does,  it  will  do  him 
good." 

"  That  was  very  wise  and  nice  in  you,  little  sister," 
said  Kate,  lifting  a  rosebud  with  her  finger-tips.  "And 
the  young  man  appears  to  have  thought  so,  too.  Are 
those  a  reward  of  merit?  I  shall  have  to  make  Mr. 
Ingalls'  acquaintance,  if  he  is  going  to  send  my  sister 
such  presents  as  this." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  to  have  you  meet  him,"  said  Mar- 
gery. "He  appears  very  well,"  she  added,  severely. 

Kate  smiled,  and  then  grew  serious ;  but,  although 
she  looked  inquiringly  at  her  sister,  Margery  did  not 
glance  up  from  her  industrious  stitch,  —  stitching. 

On  that  evening  there  was  another  knock  at  the 
door  of  the  Misses  Standish,  and  a  servant  announced 
that  a  young  gentleman  was  waiting  in  the  parlor  to 
see  Miss  Kate.  Kate  took  the  card  from  her  hand  and 
read  thereon,  "  Ray  Ingalls." 

"  Are  you  sure  he  asked  for  me  ?  " 

"Perfectly,  mum." 

"Very  well,"  and  as  she  closed  the  door  Kate 
turned  to  Margery,  whose  eyes  looked  large  and 
bright. 

"Isn't  this  very  strange,  Margery?" 

"  Perhaps  he  has  a  message  from  Aunt  Ann,"  sug 
gested  the  other. 


110  NEXT   BOOK. 

"  True ;  I  did  not  think  of  that,"  and  Kate  went 
flown  stairs  without  further  delay. 

In  the  parlor,  under  the  rather  dim  light  vouchsafed 
by  Mrs.  Brown's  economically  contrived  gas-burners, 
a  young  man  came  forward  to  meet  her. 

"Miss  Standish,"  he  said,  bowing  respectfully. 

Kate  held  his  card  and  did  not  offer  him  her  hand. 

"Take  a  seat,  Mr.  Ingalls,"  she  returned,  politely, 
seating  herself.  "  1  presume  my  aunt  has  sent  you  to 
me?" 

"No,"  returned  Ray,  remaining  standing,  and  look- 
ing very  straight  and  handsome  in  his  dingy  surround- 
ings. "I  know  that  I  am  taking  a  liberty,  and  until  I 
hear  whether  you  pardon  it  I  will  not  sit  down.  No 
one  sent  me.  I  want  very  much  to  see  your  sister,  and 
I  came  in  to  ask  you  if  I  might." 

Kate  repressed  a  smile.  Evidently  reports  of  her 
strict  discipline  had  penetrated  to  the  next  house. 
She  liked  Kay's  looks  and  she  liked  his  direct  manner; 
but  he  confirmed  her  suspicion  that  some  trouble  had 
occurred  between  him  and  Margery  at  even  this  early 
stage  of  their  acquaintance. 

"  You  see,  I  asked  her,"  continued  Ray  in  his  hon- 
est, boyish  way,  "  to  write  me  a  note  if  I  might  not 
come  in  and  see  her,  and  as  she  did  not  write  any  note 
I  concluded  I  might  come." 

Kate  bit  her  lip.  She  was  amused  as  well  as  pu& 
zled.  "I  will  take  any  message  to  her,"  she  said. 

"A  message  would  not  do.  I  wrote  to  her  this 
afternoon  and  she  would  not  answer  my  question,  so 


A   LITTLE   DIFFERENCE.  Ill 

£  do   not  believe  she  would  pay  any  attention  to  a 

message." 

"  Perhaps  she  does  not  wish  to  see  you,"  suggested 
Kate. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  she  does  not,"  returned  the  other, 
candidly.  "  But  I  cannot  rest  until  I  know  what  I 
have  done  to  offend  her.  I  do  not  know  at  all,  you 
understand,  Miss  Standish;  and  I  must  know." 

Kate  smiled.  "You  talk  like  one  very  much  accus- 
tomed to  having  his  own  way,  Mr.  Ingalls." 

Ray  met  her  eyes  and  gleaned  encouragement.  He 
admired  her  very  much.  She  was  the  most  queenly 
young  lady  he  had  ever  seen,  even  in  her  very  plain 
garments,  and  at  another  time  he  would  have  been  oc- 
cupied with  the  pleasure  of  meeting  and  talking  with 
one  whom  he  had  long  admired  at  a  distance;  but  now 
his  thoughts  were  f-jli  of  Margery.  At  an  age  when 
it  is  necessary  to  have  an  adored  object,  he  had  chosen 
her  for  his  ideal,  and  surrounded  her  with  every  charm 
that  his  fancy  could  conjure.  He  had  been  in  a  cres- 
cendo state  of  misery  ever  since  noon.  He  could  not 
go  meekly  home  now  without  having  had  his  doubts 
set  at  rest.  It  was  too  much  to  ask  of  him. 

"  Do  you  not  think,  Miss  Standish,  that  if  she  is 
offended  she  owes  it  to  me,  who  am  so  anxious  that  we 
should  l>e  friends,  to  give  a  reason  for  it?" 

"No,"  returned  Kate.  "You  can  have  met  my  sis- 
ter but  very  few  times.  I  do  not  think  she  owes  you 
anything.  However,  I  will  see  if  she  is  willing  to  see 
you,"  and  she  rose. 


112  NEXT  DOOR. 

The  young  fellow's  unhappy  face  softened  her. 
"Good  evening,  Mr.  Ingalls,"  she  added,  holding  out 
her  hand.  "I  pardon  the  liberty  you  have  taken,  so 
I  hope  you  will  not  refuse  longer  to  be  seated." 

Ray  shook  hands  with  her  gratefully,  and,  when  she 
had  gone,  dropped  into  one  of  the  faded  green  rtp 
chairs.  Several  minutes  passed  before  Margery  came 
down.  Evidentlv  she  had  taken  time  to  chancre  hef 

»  v_y 

mind  again  and  again,  but  finally  she  appeared,  hold- 
ing her  head  well  up,  and  carrying  the  pasteboard  box 
in  her  hands. 

Ray  rose  eagerly  at  her  approach.  "  Thank  you  so 
much  for  coming,"  he  said,  almost  before  she  had  en- 
tered the  room.  "  You  cannot  wonder  that  I  came  for 
an  answer  to  my  note." 

"Thank  you  for  these  beautiful  flowers,"  returned 
Margery,  with  freezing  dignity. 

"Oh,  bother  the  flowers  —  excuse  me,  I  am  de- 
lighted if  you  thought  them  beautiful,  or  cared  any- 
thing about  them;  but  I  want  to  be  forgiven." 

"  Mr.  Ingalls,  it  is  hard  for  me  to  forgive  you,"  said 
the  girl,  seriously.  "  Here  are  the  flowers.  I  cannot 
accept  them.  I  thought  you  liked  me  a  little  and 
respected  me  a  little  when  we  parted  the  other  day." 
And  she  laid  the  box  on  the  chair  beside  which  her 
visitor  stood. 

"  Like  you  ?  respect  you  ?  "  burst  forth  Ray.  "  I  don't 
know  whether  those  are  the  words  I  should  select." 

Margery  shook  her  head  with  a  little  scornful  smile 
M  They  are  not,  the  words  I  should  select,  now." 


A   LITTLE   DIFFERENCE.  113 

"  For  pity's  sake,  explain !  "  ejaculated  the  other. 

Margery  had  taken  the  precaution  to  close  the  door, 
BO  that  the  little  conference  should  be  private,  and. 
now  she  stood  erect  before  him. 

"  You  came  home  at  noon  to-day  because  you  sus- 
pected that  I  was  to  be  there."  She  blushed  very 
much  as  she  said  this,  but  maintained  a  firm  front. 

"  Yes,  I  did ;  you  would  not  let  me  call.  I  wanted 
to  see  you  very  much.  I  did  not  think  it  would  offend, 
you."  Ray  was  also  red  in  the  face,  also  firm.  "You 
were  so  kind  to  me  before." 

"  Yes ;  you  were  an  old  acquaintance  of  my  aunt's. 
I  was  prepossessed  in  your  favor.  Indeed,  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  make  me  believe  that  you  would 
do  what  you  did  to-day  —  bring  home  a  strange  man, 
to  stare  at  me." 

As  Margery  said  these  words,  she  put  into  them  an 
indignation  and  disgust  before  which  Ray  fell  back  in 
utter  dismay. 

"I  — do  that!" 

"Did  you  not?  Can  you  say  that  Mr.  Sharp  did 
not  come  home  at  an  unusual  hour  for  that  very  pur- 
pose ?  " 

"  But  I  did  not  bring  him,"  gasped  Ray. 

"  He  could  only  have  thought  it  worth  while  to  come 
on  your  recommendation,"  continued  Margery,  piti- 
lessly. "Very  likely  you  promised  him  that  I  was 
very  good  fun,  or  good-looking,  or  something  like  that. 
Whether  you  brought  him  or  rot,  you  allowed  him  to . 
come,  which  throws  sufficient  light  on  the  estimation 


114  NEXT   DOOR. 

in  which  you  hold  me.  Good  evening,  Mr.  Ingalls." 
And,  with  a  distant  bow,  Margery  stalked  from  the 
room,  leaving  the  enemy  discomfited  and  speechless,, 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

"  Well,  dear,"  said  Kate,  inquiringly,  when  her 
sister  returned,  "has  he  gone?" 

"No,"  replied  Margery,  breathing  a  little  faster  from 
the  effort  of  saying  to  her  visitor  what  she  had  deter- 
mined to  say. 

"And  you  came  off  and  left  him?"  asked  Kate. 
amazed.  "Why,  what  is  all  this?" 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you.  I  did  not  mean  to,  but  I 
will."  And  Margery,  seating  herself,  related  the  story 
of  her  grievances,  ending  with  a  report  of  her  recent 
conversation  with  Ray.  Had  Kate  heard  the  facts 
before  she  had  met  the  defendant  in  the  case,  she 
would  probably  have  sympathized  wholly  with  Mar- 
gery, and  rejoiced  at  the  spirit  in  which  her  sister 
resented  the  liberty  taken  by  the  young  man ;  but 
Kate  could  picture  Ray's  dismayed  countenance  at 
hearing  Margery's  charges,  and  at  seeing  the  implaca- 
bility with  which  she  swept  from  the  room.  In  spite 
of  herself  she  smiled  into  her  sister's  shining  eyes. 

"You  see  it  was  just  one  of  the  positions  in  which  1 
have  feared  that  Aunt  Ann's  experiment  would  place 
us,"  said  Kate ;  "  and  you  have  done  right,  only  per 
haps  it  was  a  little  rude  in  you  to  leave  our  caller  to 
find  his  own  way  out.  Let  him  be  guilty  of  all  the 
rudeness.  I  do  not  believe  from  his  manner  that  he 
realized  that  he  was  in  fault." 


A   LITTLE   DIFFERENCE.  115 

"  I  was  terribly  cross  to  him,"  remarked  Margery, 
virtuously. 

"  Well,  you  have  given  our  neighbors  a  salutary  les- 
son, at  all  events,"  said  Kate;  "they  will  be  likely  to 
approach  you  henceforth  with  great  discretion." 

"I  suppose  Mr.  Ingalls  thinks  I  am  a  virago,"  was 
the  thoughtful  response. 

"  Well,  you  can  bear  that,"  laughed  Kate.  "  He  is 
a  fine-looking  boy.  As  you  say,  he  appears  very  well ; 
but,  of  course,  now  you  have  seen  the  last  of  him." 

Margery  looked  suddenly  dismayed.  "  Oh,  I  hardly 
think  that,"  she  said. 

"  He  will  not  recover  from  this  rebuff  very  soon," 
said  Kate,  carelessly.  "  If  you  have  erred,  it  was  on 
the  safe  side,  dear.  It  was  very  nice  of  you  to  feel  the 
indelicacy  of  their  behavior." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AN  UMBRELLA  AND  A  ROSE. 

WHEX  Margery  wakened  the  following  morning,  it 
was  with  the  sensation  that  something  was  wrong. 
There  was  a  cloud  over  her,  and  it  did  not  take  many 
minutes  for  her  to  define  the  vague  discomfort.  She 
had  quarrelled  with  Aunt  Ann's  boy ;  the  first  person 
whose  acquaintance  had  promised  to  contribute  some 
variety  and  pleasure  to  the  humdrum  life  she  abhorred. 
Kate's  approval  was  rare  and  delightful ;  but  had  it  not 
been  darkened  by  a  decided  doubt  of  Margery's  dis- 
cretion? An  approving  conscience  was  a  tower  of 
strength ;  but  did  hers  now  proclaim  her  virtue  with 
quite  so  loud  a  flourish  of  trumpets  as  on  last  evening  ? 

The  day  was  dull,  and  a  wet,  drizzling  snow  was 
falling,  under  which  circumstances  Mrs.  Brown's  back 
yard  looked  least  inviting.  Margery  gazed  out  dole- 
fully, and  as  her  eyes  wandered  over  the  fence  into 
Aunt  Ann's  neater  premises,  she  wondered  whether 
her  ill-used  neighbor  were  possibly  also  studying  the 
dismal  scene.  But  she  had  not  much  time  to  indulge 
IE  reminiscence  and  regret.  It  was  one  of  the  morn- 
lie 


AN   UMBRELLA   AND   A   ttOSE.  117 

fngs  when  Kate  had  to  make  an  early  start,  and 
Margery,  as  usual,  bustled  about,  getting  overshoes, 
waterproof  and  umbrella  in  readiness,  and  doing  all 
else  she  could  to  save  her  sister's  time  and  strength. 
She  bade  Kate  good-bye  at  the  street  door  with  many 
a  moan  over  the  weather. 

"You  know  I  do  not  mind  it,"  replied  the  latter, 
who  was  in  remarkably  good  spirits.  "  Good-bye,  little 
partner.  You  do  not  know  how  pleased  I  am  to  tind 
that  you  have  so  much  self-respect  and  so  good  an  idea 
of  defending  our  position  —  in  short,"  added  Kate, 
running  down  the  steps,  "  that  you  are  so  valiant." 

"  But  with  so  little  of  the  better  part  of  valor," 
remarked  Margery,  with  a  dubious  air. 

The  door  of  the  next  house  slammed,  and  Messrs. 
Ray  Ingalls  and  Edward  Sharp  descended  to  the 
street.  The  former  carried  himself  with  an  air  which 
suggested  that  Aunt  Ann  had  mingled  buckram  and 
ramrods  with  his  breakfast.  On  previous  mornings, 
from  behind  the  parlor  curtains  Margery  had  occasion- 
ally amused  herself  with  watching  the  scrutinizing 
glances  which  her  admirer  bestowed  upon  the  house 
as  he  set  forth  for  business.  But  this  morning  he 
did  not  turn  his  head.  Stiffly  he  took  off  his  hat 
to  Kate,  assisted  her  into  a  car,  and  followed  with  his 
friend. 

Margery  started  back  and  closed  the  door,  hurrying 
ttito  the  parlor  for  one  peep  out  the  window.  Her 
curiosity  received  no  satisfaction.  The  horse-car 
inoved  on,  moist  and  dingy  in  the  muddy  street,  and 


118  NEXT  DOOR. 

she  could  get  no  glimpse  of  its  occupants.  What  a 
desolate  day!  What  an  ugly,  commonplace  row  of 
houses  was  opposite!  What  an  odious,  dark  room 
Mrs.  Brown's  parlor  was !  Margery  looked  around  it 
with  a  grimace.  Ah,  there  on  the  chair  where  she  had 
placed  it  the  night  before  was  the  pasteboard  box. 
She  lifted  the  cover,  uttering  an  exclamation.  The 
poor  roses  lay  wilted  and  forlorn.  She  looked  at  them 
with  tears  in  her  eyes  for  their  lost  beauty,  and,  carry- 
ing them  up  to  her  room,  clipped  off  the  ends  of  their 
stems  and  placed  them  in  water.  While  she  was  thu? 
occupied,  her  thoughts  reviewed  the  events  of  last 
evening.  The  color  came  to  her  cheeks  as  she  pic- 
tured Kay  standing  deserted  in  the  parlor,  and  finally 
finding  his  way  alone  out  of  the  inhospitable  mansion. 
"  What  will  he  think  of  me,"  she  murmured  halt 
aloud,  in  a  climax  of  self-disgust.  "I  could  have 
done  it  so  much  better.  Now  I  have  been  quite  as 
rude  as  he  was.  His  very  back  looked  angry  just 
now.  I  will  not  let  it  go  on  so.  I  will  set  myself 
right.  He  shall  not  have  ground  for  saying  that  I  am 
as  bad  as  he  is,"  and  Margery,  impulsive  as  usual,  sat 
down  with  her  writing-desk,  and  penned  the  following 
note: 

MR.  INGALLS, —  I  little  thought,  so  soon  after  criti- 
cising your  offence,  to  be  led  to  apologize  for  one  of  my 
own;  but  indeed  I  am  very  sorry  thut  I  wus  sufficiently 
cai'ried  nway  by  my  feelings  last  evening  to  leave  you  sa 
abruptly.  It  was  very  childish,  and  I  regret  it  very  much 
(  hope  you  will  excuse  me.  Yours  sincerely, 

MAHGEKY  STANDISH. 


AN  UMBRELLA  AND   A   EOSE.  119 

As  much  relieved  by  the  writing  of  this  missive  as 
though  it  had  already  performed  its  purpose,  Margery 
folded  it,  sighing  deeply,  and  then  addressed  herself 
to  the  duties  of  the  day.  Some  time  before  dinner 
she  meant  to  get  the  note  to  its  destination.  Indeed, 
she  would  like  to  run  in  with  it  immediately,  but  she 
conscientiously  refrained. 

"  I  am  getting  too  vagabondish  altogether,"  she 
thought,  and  straightway  went  about  putting  her  room 
in  order.  When  this  was  accomplished,  she  took  out 
an  accumulation  of  odd  jobs,  and  sat  down  with  the 
high-piled  basket  beside  the  window  with  its  dismal 
prospect. 

"No  fear  of  my  attention  wandering  from  the 
subject  in  hand,  at  any  rate,"  she  thought,  with  one 
glance  of  repugnance  at  the  gradually  lessening  snow. 
Working  away,  an  industrious  little  figure,  her  lips 
wore  a  half  smile,  while  her  thoughts  ran  on  in  an 
interesting  groove  and  she  occasionally  lifted  her  head 
to  glance  at  the  clump  of  limp  roses,  some  of  whose 
lovely  faces  were  brightening  under  her  treatment. 
After  a  couple  of  hours  of  this,  she  became  restless 
and  longed  for  some  one  to  talk  to.  Her  nearly  daily 
intercourse  with  Aunt  Ann  had  weakened  her  ability 
to  pass  hom-s  of  loneliness  philosophically. 

"  How  absurd  that  she  should  be  sitting  alone  there, 
and  I  alone  here,"  she  thought.  "  It  is  nearly  noon, 
I  believe  I  will  try  10  get  her  to  come  in  and  lunch 
tvith  me." 

The  girl  looked  out.     The  fast  melting  snow  had 


120  NEXT   DOOR. 

ceased.  All  was  still,  and  gray,  and  liumid.  She  had 
several  times  before  this  leaned  from  her  window  and 
summoned  Aunt  Ann  by  rapping  on  the  neighboring 
one.  Unless  the  housekeeper  happened  to  be  below 
stairs,  she  never  failed  to  hear  and  answer  the  call. 

"That  is  what  I  will  do,"  said  Margery,  starting  up ; 
"she  must  come  over  to  lunch  with  me.  It  will  make 
her  appreciate  her  own  cooking  the  more." 

She  went  to  the  closet  for  her  umbrella  in  its  trim 
case,  threw  a  shawl  about  her,  and  opened  the  window. 
Fortunately  the  houses  were  narrow.  By  leaning 
perilously  far  out  she  could  tap  the  neighboring  sash 
or  pane  and  make  herself  heard.  Carrying  out  her 
usual  programme  she  now  reached  over  and  knocked 
once,  twice,  without  success,  waiting  between  the  calls 
to  give  Aunt  Ann  time  to  come  in  from  her  room. 
Growing  somewhat  impatient  she  braced  herself,  leaned 
out  a  trifle  farther,  and  gave  a  sharper  blow,  when,  just 
as  she  was  drawing  the  umbrella  back  for  a  repetition, 
the  besieged  window  flew  up. 

"Here!  Who  are  you?  What  are  you  doing?" 
demanded  a  man's  voice  savagely,  as  Kay  Ingalls 
thrust  his  head  out. 

Margery  gave  a  little  scream,  nearly  losing  her  bal- 
ance in  her  surprise,  while  the  umbrella  waved  wildly 
for  a  moment,  clinked  against  the  brick  wall,  and  (hen 
fell,  striking  the  dividing  fence,  and  bounding  into 
Aunt  Ann's  yard. 

"Miss  Standish,"  ejaculated  Ray,  gazing  in  extreme 
lurprist'  at  the  girl  on  her  perch. 


AN   UMBRELLA   AND   A   ROSE.  121 

"  Yes,  and  you  have  nearly  sent  me  after  tne  um- 
brella," she  answered,  laughing.  "I  was  calling  Aunt 
Ann.  Forgive  me,  won't  you?  Of  course  I  could 
have  no  idea  you  would  be  at  home  at  this  hour  of 
the  day." 

This  unfortunate  addition  caused  both  of  them  to 
flush  violently. 

"Especially  after  last  evening,"  answered  Ray, 
stiffly,  his  position,  hands  resting  on  window-sill,  and 
body  protruding  into  mid-air,  not  altogether  compat- 
ible with  an  effective  showing  of  injured  dignity. 
"  Nothing  but  one  of  the  violent  headaches  to  which 
I  am  subject  would  have  brought  me  to-day,  and  even 
then  I  rang  the  bell  and  inquired  of  Rosalie  whether 
I  should  intrude  upon  you  by  coming  in.  Rest  as- 
sured it  was  the  farthest  thing  from  my  intention." 

"And  then  I  upset  all  your  plans  by  beating  upon 
your  window.  It  is  a  shame,"  declared  Margery, 
sparkling  and  beaming  in  a  way  to  cause  her  interloc- 
utor to  wonder  if  she  could  be  the  same  person  who 
loaded  him  with  contumely  only  last  evening.  "I 
have  just  been  writing  to  you,"  she  continued. 

"  Ah  !  "  returned  Ray.  "  Did  you  leave  the  roora 
last  night  before  you  had  finished  all  you  had  to  say?" 

"  Oh,  do  not  speak  of  it  that  way,"  said  the  girl,  with 
a  charming,  coaxing  air.  "You  will  see  when  you 
lead  my  note  how  sorry  I  was  for  my  ill  temper, 
although  now  of  course  there  is  no  need  at  all  of  your 
paving  the  note." 

"  Yes,  yes,  indeed,"  replied  Ray,  hastily,  forgetting, 


122  NEXT  DOOR. 

as  he  looked  at  Margery's  fresh  face  above  the  folds  o* 
the  Rob  Roy  shawl,  to  be  as  distant  as  his  injuries 
demanded.  "The  note  is  mine.  I,"  smiling  reluc- 
tantly, "  I  want  to  see  your  humility  in  black  and 
white.  I  imagine  it  is  a  novel  sight." 

"  But  I  cannot  get  it  to  you  now.  My  umbrella  has 
deserted.  Besides,  perhaps  you  overrate  my  humil- 
ity," added  Margery,  more  seriously ;  "  I  meant  every 
word  I  said  to  you  last  night,  but  I  am  sorry  to  have 
been  so  impolite  at  the  last." 

"I  think  I  am  rather  glad  you  were,"  said  Ray, 
easily  mollified.  "It  gives  us  an  opportunity  to  for- 
give mutually.  I  am  willing  to  do  anything  in  your 
company." 

"  Then  go  back  into  the  house,"  returned  Margery, 
abruptly.  "You  are  pale  as  a  ghost.  I  ought  not  to 
have  let  you  talk  to  me  a  minute,"  and  she  jumped 
down  from  the  sill. 

"  Wait,  Miss  Standish,  please.  The  note,  you  know. 
I  have  to  endure  tortures  for  a  couple  of  hours.  You 
can't  refuse  me  the  note." 

"  But  how  —  "  began  Margery,  popping  her  pretty 
head  out  again. 

"  Here  is  a  cane,"  and  Ray  held  one  toward  her. 
She  accepted  it  and  temporarily  disappeared. 

Taking  the  freshest  and  best  looking  of  the  roses, 
and  pinning  its  stem  to  her  envelope,  she  took  the  slim 
ebony  cane  with  its  chased  gold  handle,  and,  driving 
its  point  through  the  note,  passed  it  back  to  its  owner 

"I  am  so  sorry  for  your  head,"  she  said,  gently. 


AN   UMBRELLA  AND   A   ROSE.  123 

Ray  was  very  white  as  he  smiled  his  thanks.  "  Is 
the  rose  one  of  mine?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"Now  it  is,"  she  replied  evasively,  but  relented,  see> 
ing  his  pallor.  "Yes,  I  rescued  them,"  she  added. 
"Good-bye.  Aunt  Ann  will  take  care  of  you,  of 
course." 

"  Yes  indeed,  she  is  very  kind,  —  and  so  are  you," 
then  both  windows  closed,  and  Margery  sat  down  to 
think  it  over.  It  seemed  as  though  she  were  always 
having  some  little  thing  to  think  over  in  these  days. 
But  suddenly  she  remembered  her  cherished  umbrella 
soaking  into  the  damp  ground,  and  started  up.  She 
had  just  time  before  lunch  to  rescue  it.  In  five  minutes 
more  she  was  standing  at  Miss  Eaton's  basement  door, 
ringing  the  bell.  She  hoped  to  accomplish  her  errand 
without  meeting  Aunt  Ann,  but  as  luck  would  have  it 
the  latter  was  descending  the  basement  stairs  at  the 
moment  when  Rosalie  admitted  the  visitor. 

"Margery,  is  it  you,  dear?"  she  said  in  a  hushed 
voice.  "  Poor  Ray  is  up  stairs  with  such  a  headache. 
I  am  just  going  to  get  some  hot  water  and  wring 
out  cloths  to  put  on  his  head.  You  have  come  in 
to  lunch  with  me.  Go  right  into  the  dining-room 
and  I  —  " 

"No,  Aunt  Ann,  I  didn't  come  in  to  lunch.  I 
dropped  something  out  of  my  window  into  your  back 
yard.  I  am  going  to  get  it,  and  then  right  home.  Do 
not  pay  any  attention  to  me.  I  know  you  ought  to 
hurry.  I  am  so  sorry  for  Mr.  Ingalls." 

But  Aunt   Ann   was   over  the  kitchen  stove  when 


124  XEXT   DOOR. 

Margery  came  in  with  her  umbrella,  whose  neat  case 
was  all  wet  and  stained. 

"Dropped  your  umbrella  out  of  the  window,  my 
dear !"  exclaimed  the  former,  looking  over  her  specta- 
cles. "  How  ever  did  you  manage  that,  ?  " 

u  The  law  of  gravitation  managed  it  for  me,"  re- 
plied the  girl,  demurely.  "  Can  I  do  anything  at  all 
to  help  you?" 

"  No,  dear,  no ;  but  I  wish  you'd  stay  if  you  can. 
You  might  read  to  the  poor  boy  when  he  feels  better. 
I  suppose  he'll  want  it.  Sick  folks  always  do;  and 
I  am  the  poorest  hand.  I  can't  seem  to  keep  my 
thoughts  from  running  onto  something  else.  Even 
poor  pa's  patience  used  to  give  out.  '  Ann,'  he'd  say, 
*  you  can  do  most  things ;  but  you  can't  read  any  more 
than  Kits.'  Well,  I  must  go  up,"  and  Aunt  Ann 
seized  her  pitcher  of  boiling  water  and  hurried  up  the 
stairs,  while  Margery  stooped  to  caress  the  cat,  repos- 
ing in  a  safe  corner  close  to  the  stove  and  out  of 
Rosalie's  way. 

"Isn't  he  a  splendid  fellow?"  she  asked  of  the  latter. 

**  Miss  Eaton  thinks  so,"  responded  Rosalie,  grimly. 
"I  can't  abide  cats,  and  never  could;  but  he  rules  the 
roost  here,  you  may  be  sure.  I  suppose  I  shall  spread 
lunch  for  you,  Miss  Margery,  if  so  be  you're  goin'  to 
stay  and  tend  the  sick." 

Margery  caught  the  smile  that  accompanied  this 
suggestion,  and  rose  hastily  from  her  stooping  posture. 

*'  No,  I  cannot  stay  to-day,"  she  replied  briefly,  and 
Immediately  left  the  house. 


Atf   UMBRELLA  AND  A  ROSE.  125 

When  Kate  came  home  she  gave  her  a  graphic  ac- 
count of  her  morning's  interview  with  their  neighbor; 
and  Kate  listened  with  interest  and  laughed  heartily 
She  uttered  no  word  of  criticism  or  of  disappointment 
that  the  estrangement,  of  which  she  had  privately 
hoped  much,  had  proved  of  so  short  duration. 

"  And  now  I  have  to  make  a  new  case  for  my  um- 
brella," said  Margery,  dolefully. 

"Is  that  a  high  price  to  pay  for  your  reconcilia- 
tion?" 

u  No,  perhaps  not ;  but  I  shall  never  dare  to  knock 
foi  Aunt  Ann  any  more,  and  that  is  an  inconvenience, 
Jdi.  Ingalls  will  Lave  to  be  very  nice  to  repay  me." 


CHAPTER  XHI. 

BAD  NEWS. 

day,  some  weeks  after  peace  had  been  restored, 
Margery  met  Ray  in  the  street.  He  had  received  no 
encouragement,  either  from  Aunt  Ann  or  any  one 
else,  to  repeat  his  call  at  the  next  house;  and  his 
glimpses  of  Margery  had  been  few  and  far  between. 
His  face  lighted  with  pleasure  when  they  met,  and  he 
stood  still,  compelling  her  to  pause  and  shake  hands 
with  him. 

"  I  am  going  your  way,"  he  said,  "  if  you  will  let 
me." 

"  Very  well,"  she  replied ;  "  but  my  errand  will  noi 
interest  you.  I  am  going  to  buy  some  flannel." 

"Oh,  yes!  for  the  poor,  I  suppose,"  said  Ray,  with 
Borne  vague  association  of  ideas. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Margery,  raising  her  eyebrows  and 
smiling,  "  for  two  of  the  poor." 

"I  have  been  wanting  to  see  you  very  much  the 
past  few  days,"  continued  Ray,  as  they  walked  along. 
*  If  you  were  not  as  unapproachable  as  the  princess  in 
a  fairy  tale,  I  should  have  come  in  to  see  you  last 
evening." 

126 


BAD  NEWS.  127 

Margery  laughed.  "  I  have  a  beautiful  dragon,  at 
any  rate,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  about  a  danger  that  threatens  your 
Bister  that  I  wished  to  see  you." 

Margery  turned  to  him  with  sudden  apprehension. 

"I  ought  not  to  call  it  danger  perhaps.  I  don't 
know  how  she  will  regard  it.  Does  she  value  her 
position  in  the  choir?" 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  Well,  I  am  afraid  she  is  on  the  eve  of  losing  h." 

Margery  flushed  and  then  turned  pale ;  but  she 
answered  quietly :  . 

"You  would  be  likely  to  have  correct  information 
on  that  point  from  your  uncle.  Does  Kate  not  satisfy 
them  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  said  a  word  to  Uncle  John  about  it," 
replied  Ray.  "  The  fact  is  I  was  too  much  vexed  with 
him  for  favoring  the  change.  All  I  know  is  what  I 
heard  two  ladies  of  the  congregation  saying  about  it. 
You  know  your  sister  is  quite  young  to  be  singing 
with  the  others  of  that  qaartette." 

"  I  know,''  murmured  Marge rv  ;  "  she  would  never 

o       *     * 

have  been  there  but  for  Madam  Sevrance.     But  her 
voice  balances,"  she  added,  more  confidently.     "There 
is  never  any  feeling  of  inadequacy  about  it  —  to  me." 
"  Nor  to  me,"  returned  Ray,  warmly.     "  It  is  beau- 
tiful.    Everybody  has  praised  it  until  now ;  but  here 

is  the  trouble.     Miss  B ,  who,  you  know,  has  been 

singing  so  long  in  light  opeia,  has  withdrawn  from  the 
rtage  and  is  open  for  a  church  engagement.     She  haa 


128  NEXT   DOOR. 

a  big,  dramatic,  mature  voice,  and,  according  to  what 
I  heard  these  ladies  say,  the  music  committee  are  eagei 
to  secure  her.  Indeed,  they  implied  that  the  change 
was  to  be  effected  soon." 

Margery's  transparent  face  revealed  her  distress, 
and  confirmed  Ray's  suspicions  that  this  loss  would  be 
a  very  serious  matter  to  his  fair  neighbors.  He  flushed 
high  with  generous  sympathy ;  but  he  spoke  as  lightly 
as  he  was  able. 

"There  is  one  good  thing  about  it.  Plenty  of  other 
churches  would  be  glad  to  secure  such  a  prize  as  Miss 
Standish." 

"Yes,  but  few  others  pay  nearly  so  high  a  salary  as 
Bhe  gets  now,"  returned  the  girl  artlessly. 

Ray's  heart  beat  fast.  The  idea  of  its  being  within 
the  range  of  possibility  that  Margery  should  need 
money;  Margery,  for  whom  it  would  be  the  highest 
privilege  and  honor  to  provide.  He  looked  with  fer 
vent  eyes  at  her  pretty,  drooping  face,  and  so  doing 
ran  into  a  corpulent  pedestrian,  whose  growls  and 
maledictions  roused  them  both  from  reverie. 

"Perhaps  I  had  better  have  said  nothing,"  observed 
Ray,  miserably. 

"You  have  done  right  and  very  kindly,"  replied  the 
girl.  "If  Kate  is  well  prepared,  that  will  make  the 
trial  much  less.  Do  not  come  in  with  me,"  she  added, 
with  an  effort  at  cheerfulness,  as  they  reached  her 
destination,  "it  would  only  bore  you." 

"But  when  shall  I  see  you  again?"  ask«d  her  com- 
panion, regarding  her  anxiously. 


BAD  NEWS.  129 

"How  can  I  tell,"  she  returned,  lightly.  "Such 
very  near  neighbors  cannot  long  miss  one  another." 

"  Do  not  say  that.  You  know  it  is  nonsense  "  he 
answered. 

Margery  rather  enjoyed  his  dissatisfaction. 

"  You  will  soon  have  no  time  to  miss  me.  Aunt 
Ann  tells  me  you  are  becoming  very  gay;  that 
your  uncle  is  introducing  you  into  society,  and  that 
invitations  are  beginning  to  come  in  numerous  as  the 
sands  of  the  sea." 

"Why  do  I  never  meet  you?" 

"For  the  best  of  reasons,"  laughed  Margery.  "1 
am  not  in  society.  Good-bye." 

"  Well,  good-bye,"  he  said,  reluctantly,  holding  the 
hand  she  offered  in  a  clinging  grasp.  "  I  think  it  is 
rather  hard  on  me  that  you  never  go  anywhere." 

"  Then  what  is  it  to  me  ?  "  asked  Margery,  comically. 
"Do  you  not  suppose  I  would  like  to  go  out,  and  dress 
beautifully,  and  drive  a  great  deal,  and  not  rise  till 
noon  ?  I  should  like  now  to  be  going  to  buy  gorgeous 
costumes  for  Kate  and  me,  instead  of  four  yards  of 
Shaker  flannel,"  and,  with  a  little  grimace,  the  girl 
nodded  and  entered  the  store,  leaving  Ray  to  turn 
gloomily  in  the  direction  of  the  office. 

Margery's  face  changed  back  to  its  expression  of 
anxiety  when  she  was  alone.  Beautiful,  hard-working, 
cheerful  Kate.  What  a  thunderbolt  she  must  cast  at 
her  feet  to-night ! 

She  smiled  scornfully  at  the  flannel  which  the  clerk 
Unfolded  before  her,  and  y^t  it  nas  a  good  piece,  quite 


130  NEXT   DOOR. 

as  good  as  could  be  expected  for  fifty  cents  a  ynrd 
She  was  thinking  of  Mr.  Exton. 

"And  I  was  foolish  enough  to  believe  that  he  remein 
bered  that  we  were  in  existence,  and  would  take  an 
interest  in  our  fate.  Ah,  Kate  was  right.  Kate  is 
always  right,"  she  thought. 

Arrived  at  home,  it  was  Aunt  Ann's  steps  she 
ascended  instead  of  her  own,  and  soon  she  was  plunged 
into  a  recital  of  Ray's  bad  news,  her  hands  clasped  in 
the  hard,  sympathetic  ones  \>i  her  aunt,  whose  specta- 
cles were  pushed  up,  while  her  kindly  face  expressed  a 
troubled  interest  in  the  tale. 

"  I  don't  know  what  we  shall  do,"  finished  Margery. 
"Of  course  there  are  a  dozen  applicants  pressing  for 
every  vacancy.  If  it  were  not  for  Madam  Sevrnnce 
the  case  would  be  hopeless;  but  even  she  cannot  work 
miracles,  and  there  is  no  telling  how  long  Kate  may 
have  to  wait." 

"  Well,  well,  I  declare  it's  unfortunate,"  said  Aunt 
Ann  ;  "but,  Margery,"  and  she  patted  the  girl's  hand 
with  huge  satisfaction,  "  I  am  not  poor,  my  dear.  I 
have  something  laid  by  for  a  rainy  day,  and  you  and 
Kate  are  all  the  children  I  have.  Don't  you  worry, 
nor  don't  you  let  Kate  worry." 

Margery  kissed  the  speaker's  cheek.  "Thank  you, 
dear  Aunt  Ann;  but  while  we  are  both  well,  you 
know  we  would  not  touch  your  rainy-day  money. 
Why,  even  I  would  not  do  that,"  she  added,  with 
A  little  laugh.  "We  are  not  at  the  end  of  our 
resources.  You  do  not  know  yet  how  many  things 


BAD  NEWS. 

r  can  teach,"  tossing  her  head  with  an  assumption 
of  conceit. 

Aunt  Aim  regarded  her  with  mild  thoughtfulness, 
and  a  bright  idea  suddenly  entered  her  mind. 

"  Well,  I  must  not  sit  here  wasting  my  time,"  said 
the  girl,  rising  briskly.  "Promise  not  to  worry  over 
two  healthy,  able-bodied  nieces,  or  I  shall  not  feel  at 
liberty  to  run  to  you  with  every  little  trouble." 

Aunt  Ann  gave  her  a  loving  hug,  and  held  the 
Brreet  door  open  to  watch  her  go  down  the  steps. 
When  the  latter  turned  to  ascend  her  own,  they  ex- 
changed cheerful  nods,  and  then  Aunt  Ann  closed 
the  door. 

Returning  to  her  room,  she  sat  down  and  took  Kits 
in  her  lap.  She  could  think  better  with  her  hand  rest- 
ing on  his  sleek  fur. 

"  I  don't  see  what  harm  it  could  do,"  she  said  at 
iiength  aloud.  "  I  believe  I'll  go,  and  I  suppose  the 
sooner  its  done  the  better.  Get  down,  Kits.  I'm 
going  on  a  diplomatic  errand,  sir,  and  I  must  make 
myself  look  right  for  it." 

This  Aunt  Ann  accordingly  did  ;  and  when  her  best 
garments  were  donned,  and  she  had  drawn  on  a  new 
pair  of  black  kids,  nearly  as  roomy  as  the  old  ones,  for 
Aunt  Ann  always  said  she  must  have  room  to  breathe, 
she  bade  Rosalie  good-bye,  shut  Kits  into  the  warmest 
room  in  the  house,  and  set  forth  on  her  errand. 

Taking  a  horse-car,  she  rode  into  the  heart  of  the 
city.  Then,  after  consulting  a  card  which  she  had 
taken  from  Ray's  room,  she  found  her  way  to  an  in> 


132  NEXT   DOOR. 

posing  stone  building,  and  ascended  a  flight  of  stairs. 
Opening  a  heavy  door  at  her  right,  she  walked 
into  a  large,  handsome  room,  full  of  railings  and 
desks,  where  half  a  dozen  men  looked  up  at  her 
entrance.  Among  them  were  Mr.  Wiley,  Mr.  Sharp, 
and  Ray  Ingalls.  The  latter  immediately  came  for- 
ward. 

"What  is  it,  Aunt  Ann?"  he  said,  shaking-  hands 
with  her  cordially. 

"  I  want  to  see  your  uncle  if  I  can." 

Ray  evinced  every  symptom  of  terror. 

"Has  my  time  come?     What  have  I  been  doing?" 

"You'll  know  some  day,"  replied  Aunt  Ann,  curtly. 

Ray  laughed  and  brought  forward  a  chair. 

"Then  excuse  me,  and  I  will  find  out  if  he  is  dis- 
engaged. Sit  down  here,  please." 

Aunt  Ann  had  plenty  to  admire  in  the  elegant  ap- 
pointments of  the  office,  and  waited  without  the  least 
perturbation  until  the  time  when  Ray  returned,  and 
ushered  her  into  the  private  room  beyond,  where  Mr. 
Exton  gravely  rose  to  greet  her. 

Aunt  Ann  was  too  simple-hearted  to  be  awed  by  his 
wanner  or  surroundings.  She  would  welcome  him  into 
her  domains  whenever  he  liked  to  present  himself 
there,  and  she  took  it  for  granted  that  her  hospitable 
attitude  was  reciprocated. 

*  What  a  fine  place  you've  got  here,"  she  said, 
shaking  hands  with  him.  "I  suppose  you're  very 
busy,  and  dread  to  see  a  woman  come  in  in  business 
hours."  She  took  the  seat  he  offered  her.  "But  ] 


BAD   NKWS.  133 

ain't  any  great  talker,  and  I'll  be  quick  about  it.  1 
came  to  see  you  about  ray  niece  Kate." 

"  Miss  Standish  !  " 

"  Yes,  that's  the  one,  the  one  that  sings  in  church. 
I  want  to  find  out  whether  you  like  her!" 

Mr.  Exton,  who  had  reseated  himself  with  his  arm 
resting  on  his  desk,  here  looked  up  and  met  the 
speaker's  eyes  in  amazement,  while  a  faint  red  color 
stole  slowly  up  over  his  dark  face. 

"That's  all,"  continued  Aunt  Ann,  simply.  "I 
don't  want  to  take  your  time.  Just  answer  yes  or  no. 
Do  you  like  her?" 

Exton  looked  instinctively  at  the  heavy  door  to  be 
sure  it  was  closed.  Once  certain  that  such  was  the 
case,  his  complete  mystification  could  not  prevent  his 
smiling  into  his  visitor's  anxious  face. 

"There  could  be  but  one  answer  to  that,  Miss 
Eaton,  I  am  sure,  provided  I  knew  Miss  Stan  dish  ;  but 
T  have  spoken  with  her  but  twice.  I  cannot  Hatter 
myself  that  I  know  her." 

"'Tain't  necessary  that  you  should  know  her,"  re- 
sponded Aunt  Ann,  shaking  her  head  a  trifle  im- 
patiently. "That  isn't  the  point.  The  point  is  that 
you  hired  her  to  sing  in  your  church,  Margery  told 
me  so ;  and  if  you  liked  her  well  enough  for  that  then, 
why  do  you  turn  her  away  now?"  Aunt  Ann  put 
out  the  palm  of  one  of  her  black  gloves  in  a  jerky 
gesture  of  inquiry  as  she  added,  "Don't  she  sing  aa 
well  as  she  ever  did  ?  " 

Mr.  Exton  moved  his  chair  a  trifle  nearer  his  ques 


134  NEXT   DOOR. 

tioner.  "What  is  this?"  he  asked,  with  interest, 
concentrating  his  serious,  pleasant  gaze  on  Aunt  Ann's 
face.  "  You  must  have  been  misinformed." 

"  Not  you  alone,  of  course.  But  the  committee  are 
going  to  send  her  away,  so  we  hear.  Mr.  Exton!" 
Aunt  Ann  threw  herself  instinctively  on  the  nobility 
and  strength  she  saw  in  his  face.  "  Mr.  Exton,  it  will 
be  a  blow  to  Kate  to  lose  that  place.  Perhaps  you 
didn't  know  that  she  and  Margery  support  themselves 
after  having  been  brought  up  in  the  lap  of  luxury. 
Their  father  was  a  speculator.  He  married  my  sister 
and  then  separated  her  from  all  her  relatives.  A 
purse-proud  man  he  was.  If  it  wasn't  business  hours 
I'd  tell  you  all  about  it;  but  no  matter  now.  My 
sister  died  long  ago ;  and  as  soon  as  the  girls'  father 
had  lost  all  he  had,  he  went  and  died  too.  It  was  just 
like  him  exactly.  He  never  thought  of  anybody  but 
himself.  Well,  well,  of  course  I  suppose  he  couldn't 
help  it;  but  it  looked  that  way."  Aunt  Ann  wiped 
her  eyes  hurriedly.  "  If  you  knew  how  good  Kate  is, 
and  what  tender  care  she  takes  of  Margery,  and  what 
a  lovely,  high  spirit  she  has,  and  how  hard  she  works, 
you'd  let  her  keep  that  place,  Mr.  Exton,  unless  you 
really  don't  like  her." 

Exton  nodded  sympathetically;  and  there  was  a 
light  in  his  eyes,  kindled  there  by  Aunt  Ann's  eulogy. 

"  Miss  Standish's  voice  is  charming.  She  does  her 
work  well.  If  there  is  a  movement  on  foot  to  di& 
place  her,  it  is  unknown  to  me,"  he  replied,  kindly. 

"  And  to  her  too,  poor  child,  so  far,"  replied  Auni 


BAD   NEWS.  135 

A.i/n.  "Margery  heai-d  of  it  to-day,  and  told  me 
about  it.  It  Avas  my  own  idea  coming  to  you." 

"  Where  did  Miss  Margery  learn  this  ?  " 

"  Ray  told  her.  He  heard  them  talking  it  over  at 
the  church." 

"  Ah ! "  Exton  dropped  his  eyes  a  moment,  then 
looked  up  again.  "  The  young  man  knows  your 
nieces?" 

"  Yes."  Aunt  Ann  laughed  easily  at  some  recollec- 
tion. "  He  doesn't  see  much  of  them.  Kate  has 
queer  notions.  She  don't  encourage  new  friends 
much  of  any."  Here  the  speaker  resumed  her 
anxious  expression.  "I  hope  you  can  do  something 
for  her.  We  shall  be  very  grateful." 

Mr.  Exton  smiled.  "  This  is  all  news  to  me  so  I 
cannot  promise  anything  but  my  influence.  Nothing 
definite  can  be  clone  without  my  knowledge,  and  I — • 
well,  I  shall  make  a  great  effort  to  retain  Miss 
Standish." 

Aunt  Ann's  countenance  brightened.  She  arose, 
and  Mr.  Exton  followed  her  example. 

"  You've  relieved  my  mind  wonderfully ;  but  I 
don't  want  to  urge  you,  you  know,  if  you  don't  like 
her,"  she  said,  doubtfully. 

Mr.  Exton  smiled  as  he  shook  her  honest  hand. 

"  I  do  like  her,"  he  replied,  heartily,  and  when 
Aunt  Ann,  beaming  with  content,  had  disappeared, 
nnd  the  oaken  door  was  closed  behind  her,  he  sat 
down  at  his  desk  to  find  his  pulses  accelerated  by  the 
declaration.  He  recalled  Kate's  pale  face  as  it  looked 


136  NEXT   DOOR. 

every  Sunday ;  as  it  looked  when  she  rejected  hid 
offer  to  call  upon  her  sister. 

Her  youth  and  beauty  were  sufficiently  marked  to 
hnve  made  her  often  a  theme  for  conversation  among 

O 

the  people  of  the  church.  He  had  been  accustomed 
to  hearing  comments  upon  her,  and  they  had  seldom 
been  favorable.  Many  a  lady  of  the  society  would 
have  entertained  and  made  a  pet  of  the  young  singer 
temporarily,  but  that  such  attentions  were  sure  to  be 
nipped  in  the  bud.  Perfectly  approachable  in  a  busi- 
ness relation,  all  attempts  to  draw  her  out  socially 
had  failed. 

The  young  man  was  recalling  this  and  wondering 
what  it  had  to  do  with  the  effort  to  remove  her  from 
the  choir,  when  a  message  was  again  brought  that  a 
lady  wished  to  speak  with  him.  There  was  a  decided 
impatience  in  his  manner  as  he  nodded  assent. 

In  a  minute  in  walked  the  stately  figure  of  an  elderly 
lady;  tall,  with  her  white  hair  dressed  d,  la  Pompa- 
dour. She  was  dressed  in  a  luxurious  garment  of  seal- 
skin, which  covered  her  from  head  to  foot,  and  a  close 
bonnet  of  fine  feathers.  At  sight  of  her  strong  face, 
with  its  brilliant  black  eyes,  Mr.Exton  rose  with  ready 
cordiality. 

"Madam  Sevrance,  this  is  indeed  a  pleasant  sur- 
prise." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  suppose  so,"  replied  the  new-comer, 
brusquely,  shaking  hands  with  him,  and  then  taking 
the  chair  vacated  a  short  time  since  by  Aunt  Ann. 
"What  is  this  about  Miss  Standish  being  supplanted 


BAD  NEWS.  137 

in  the  choir  at  the  '  Apostles  ? ' "  she  continued,  pin- 
ning him  with  her  flashing  eyes. 

Mr.  Exton  deliberately  reseated  himself.  "  I  do  not 
know  what  it  is,"  he  replied. 

"  You  mean  that  you  didn't  know  anything  about 
it?" 

"  Precisely ;  until  a  few  minutes  ago,  when  her  aunt 
attacked  me  about  as  you  are  doing  now." 

"  Oh,  yes,  her  aunt,"  repeated  Madam  Sevrance, 
meditating.  "I've  heard  of  the  aunt;  an  amiable 
rural  personage.  Well,  I  can  tell  you  what  about  it,"  she 
added,  with  an  excited  gesture,  "  I  see  through  the 
whole  thing.  They  don't  like  Kate  in  the  church,  nor 
in  the  choir,  because  they  aren't  good  enough  for  her. 

What  sort  of  companion  is  she  for  Miss  K ,  the 

contralto,  with  her  red  face  and  her  coarse  ways?  It 
annoys  the  choir  to  have  her  behave  herself  through 
th«  service,  while  they  are  drawing  caricatures  and  writ- 
ing notes.  Miss  K would  rather  have  Miss  B , 

of  the  opera,  of  course ;  but  of  course  she  wouldn't  have 

anything  to  do  with  it.  The  idea  is  that  Miss  B 

has  more  fame  and  more  voice ;  but  I  tell  you,  John," 
and  the  excited  woman  gave  a  quick  shake  of  her 
head,  "she  can't  sing  in  tune.  I  mean  she  can't 
always  sing  in  tune.  Now,  Kate  can't  do  otherwise. 
Did  you  ever  hear  her  get  off  pitch  ? "  Here  she 
pointed  a  searching  finger  at  her  listener. 

"  Never,"  he  responded,  with  gratifying  promptness. 

<cThe  most  important  fact  of  all  is  that  Miss  B • 

(vill  come  cheap.  They  can  get  her  for  less  than  thej 


138  NEXT  DOOR. 

can  my  little  Kate.     She  has  offered  herself  for  less." 

"Perhaps  Miss  Standish  would  lower  her  price,' 
suggested  Mr.  Exton,  "if  —  " 

"  Never ! "  exclaimed  the  other,  in  ringing  tones. 
"  She  sha'n't  take  less  there.  If  she  goes  elsewhere, 
she  will  have  to.  She  needs  that  much,"  continued 
Madam  Sevrance,  in  a  quieter  tone.  "  I  want  to  help 
her ;  and  I  want  you  to  help  her,  if  it  is  a  possibility." 

';I  certainly  shall,  if  only  from  selfish  motives.  I 
should  be  very  sorry  to  see  and  hear  any  one  else  in 
her  place.  I  think  it  is  unfortunate  that  she  should 
not  have  made  herself  more  popular  among  the  people." 

"  H'm.  Yes.  I'm  afraid  that  is  my  fault.  She  — 
John  Exton,"  with  an  emphatic  burst,  "that  girl 
hasn't  her  equal  in  Boston  ;  but  in  her  reduced  cir- 
cumstances she  shrinks  from  society,  and  I  —  I  think 
I  see  now  that  I  have  encouraged  her  in  it,  when  I 
ought  to  have  urged  her  in  the  other  direction.  Keep 
her  the  place  if  you  can,  John,  and  we  will  turn  over 
a  new  leaf."  And  the  speaker's  bright  eyes  searched 
the  other's  face  sharply. 

He  raised  his  eyebrows*,  and  made  a  gesture  of 
doubt.  "I  tell  you  I  should  like  to  do  so." 

"You  are  satisfied  with  her?" 

"Oh,  I  like  her,"  said  Exton,  with  a  gently  droll 
smile,  as  though  he  found  satisfaction  in  repeating 
Aunt  Ann's  more  ambiguous  form  of  commendation. 

"Then  manage  it  somehow,"  said  the  madarn  curtly. 
"How  do  you  get  on  here?"  she  added,  rising,  with  a 
comprehensive  survey  of  the  little  room. 


BAD  NEWS.  139 

"  With  the  business  ?     Very  well,  thank  you." 

"  It  is  a  heavy  burden  for  you,  I  should  think.  But 
you  always  were  an  old  head,  John.  I  dare  say  your 
father  knew  you  could  be  trusted.  Ah,  I  shall  never 
forget  him.  He  befriended  me  when  I  needed  it." 
And  the  impulsive  woman  dashed  her  hand  across  her 
eyes,  and  then  held  it  out.  "  Good-bye.  You  are 
probably  in  as  much  haste  as  I  am." 

Exton  bowed  over  the  hand,  and  then  opened  the 
door. 

Left  alone  again  with  his  mental  image  of  Kate,  a 
strange  satisfaction  swelled  within  him.  Few  things 
in  his  successful  life  had  given  him  the  pleasure  he 
felt  in  the  knowledge  that  he  alone  could  help  that 
quietly  self-sufficient  young  woman  in  the  present 
erisis  of  her  affairs. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  COMMITTEE  DECIDE. 

news  was  a  heavy  blow  to  Kate.  Margery 
told  her  as  gently  as  possible,  her  eyes  filling  with 
team  at  the  blank  surprise  that  overspread  her  sister's 
face. 

"Don't  mind  it,  dearest  Kate,"  she  pleaded,  throw- 
ing her  arms  around  her.  "  I'm  fit  for  something 
beside  sitting  at  home  and  sewing.  You  know  the 
girls  used  to  call  me  the  native,  half  the  time  at 
school,  because  people  were  always  saying  I  spoke 
French  like  one.  I  will  get  up  a  class.  I  know  I 
can;  and  you  will  soon  get  another  position.  I  told 
Aunt  Ann  about  it,  and  she  said  she  had  money  in 
the  bank  and  that  we  were  not  to  worry.  I  assured 
her  we  did  not  need  it,  and  that  there  were  plenty  of 
things  we  could  do." 

"  Who  told  you  this  ?  "  asked  Kate,  quietly. 

"  Mr.  Ingalls.  He  heard  people  talking  it  over  at 
the  church,  and  he  thought  we  should  like  to  be  fore- 
warned." 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  him,"  said  Kate,  earnestly; 
and  fell  to  thinking  again. 

140 


THE  COMMITTEE  DECIDE.  14} 

The  next  day  was  Sunday.  Kate  was  in  her  place, 
her  calm,  self-poised  manner  unchanged. 

Aunt  Ann  and  Margery  were  in  the  congregation. 
It  might  be  one  of  the  last  Sundays  that  Kate  would 
sing  in  the  beautiful  church,  and  Aunt  Ann  must  hear 
her.  The  latter  was  in  the  most  cheerful  frame  of 
mind.  Next  to  impossible  as  it  was  for  her  to  keep  a 
secret,  Margery's  sadness  several  times  brought  her 
perilously  near  to  disclosing  her  ground  for  hopeful- 
ness ;  but  instinct  warned  her  that  her  nieces  would 
not  regard  with  favor  her  intercession  of  yesterday, 
and  she  managed  to  keep  the  account  of  her  visit  to 
Mr.  Exton  from  slipping  off  her  tongue's  end. 

He  was  there  in  his  pew,  and  Aunt  Ann's  spectacles 
were,  of  ten  turned  in  his  direction  with  an  uncon- 
scious half  smile  of  confidence.  Her  heart  swelled 
with  pride  as  Kate's  rich  voice  rang  clearly  out. 

"That's  the  old  Eaton  grit,"  she  thought,  with 
satisfaction.  "  She  don't  falter  though  she  knows 
that  half  the  congregation  may  be  criticising  and 
looking  forward  to  the  new  woman.  What  they  can 
want  better  than  that  passes  me  !  Why,  it's  worth 
her  salary  for  people  to  get  such  a  lovely  critter  to 
look  at  every  Sunday ! "  but  here  Aunt  Ann  re- 
proached herself  for  wordly  thoughts,  and  reverentially 
covered  her  eyes  with  one  hand,  while  resting  her 
elbow  in  the  other. 

Margery  sat  beside  her,  and  at  the  end  of  the  pew 
was  Ray  Ingalls,  who  had  constituted  himself  their 
escort.  He  also  held  an  immaculately  gloved  hand 


142  NEXT  DOOR. 

over  his  eyes,  but  it  was  for  the  purpose  of  gaining 
more  liberty  to  gaze  at  Margaret,  who  looked  steadily 
and  sadly  at  Kate's  pure,  noble  face.  Once  he  leaned 
toward  her. 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  worshipping  the  wrong 
person,"  he  whispered. 

She  smiled  a  little  then,  and  tried  to  turn  her 
attention  to  the  pulpit. 

Two  days  afterward,  Kate  went  to  Madam  Sev« 
ranee  for  her  lesson.  She  was  a  little  late ;  and,  the 
previous  pupil  having  departed,  the  teacher  was 
seated  at  the  piano  looking  over  a  new  song.  With- 
out rising,  and  still  striking  the  chords,  the  latter 
spoke  with  her  usual  abruptness. 

"  Good  morning,  Kate.  Have  you  heard  that  they 
are  trying  to  supplant  you  at  the  'Apostles'?" 

"Yes."  Kate  nodded,  and  smiled  forlornly.  "  They 
have  a  right  to,  unfortunately." 

"  Well,"  and  Madam  Sevrance  stopped  playing  and 
turned  toward  her,  "  it  is  not  concluded  yet ;  but  if  it 
comes  you  had  better  make  a  greater  point  of  your 
teaching." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  do  so ;  at  present  it  really 
amounts  to  very  little.  I  am  out  a  great  deal ;  but  it 
is  because  my  pupils  are  so  separated,  not  because  they 
are  so  numerous." 

"Yes.  We  must  change  our  tactics  and  see  if  we 
cannot  make  you  more  fashionable.  I  can  throw  mort 
work  into  your  hands,  but  have  refrained  because  J 
thought  you  did  enough.  One  afternoon  in  the  week 


THE   COMMITTEE   DECIDE.  143 

you  can  have  this  room.     Some  of  them  can  come  to 
you." 

"  Dear  Madam  Sevrance,  how  kind  you  are ! "  ex 
claimed  the  girl. 

"  You  will  have  an  invitation  to  Mrs.  Farrar's  Musi- 
Gale,  you  and  your' sister,"  continued  the  other.  "I 
suggest  that  you  accept  it." 

"What  shall  I  sing?" 

"  You  will  not  be  invited  to  sing.  You  will  be  like 
ftny  other  guest." 

"  Then  I  have  no  place  there.'5 

"  Yes,  you  had  better  go." 

"But  you  yourself  have  said  so  often-—" 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Madam  Sevrance,  "I  know  it; 
but,  as  I  say,  it  becomes  necessary  to  change  our  tac- 
tics. It  will  be  well  for  you  to  know  serviceable  peo- 
ple. Now  for  our  lesson,"  and  Kate,  bewildered,  not 
daring  to  ask  another  question,  but  with  dozens  surg- 
ing to  her  lips,  commenced  the  business  of  the  hour. 

Glad  of  something  to  cheer  Margery,  and  to  make 
her  believe  that  she  herself  took  a  hopeful  view  of  the 
future,  Kate  recounted  to  her  sister  the  above  conver- 
sation. 

Margery  listened  to  it  all  very  seriously,  not  even 
the  possibility  of  a  party  in  the  near  future  having 
power  to  elate  her.  Society  meant  to  her  largely  the 
congregation  of  the  Church  of  the  Apostles,  which,  as 
B  body,  were  in  Margery's  blackest  books.  Even  Kate 
tid  not  look  forward  to  the  impending  disaster  with 
quite  the  same  apprehension  which  her  junior  felt. 


144  NEXT   DOOR. 

She  was  upborne  by  the  necessity  for  effort  and  action, 
while  Margery,  obliged  to  take  a  passive  part,  brooded 
over  the  added  labor  which  the  coming  change  would 
impose  upon  her  sister.  But  they  were  not  long  kept 
in  suspense.  Before  another  Sunday  came  around,  the 
blow  fell.  It  came  in  the  shape  of  a  letter  addressed 
to  Kate,  which  Margery  found  beside  her  plate  at  the 
lunch  table.  It  bore  upon  it  the  well-known  stamp 
which,  until  now,  had  been  so  welcome,  enclosing,  as 
it  always  had  done,  the  precious  check  which  was  to 
carry  them  through  until  another  quarter  came  around. 
Now  the  familiar  writing  struck  a  chill  to  Margery's 
heart,  and  took  away  her  appetite.  Kate  was  out,  and 
she  must  curb  her  impatience  for  some  hours  yet.  She 
set  the  dreaded  missive  up  in  plain  sight  on  her  bureau, 
still  gazing  at  it  with  fascinated  eyes.  The  half  hours 
dragged  by  with  unprecedented  slowness  until  her 
sister's  retun,,  and  as  soon  as  Kate  cnme  in  and  saw 
Margery's  face  she  knew  that  something  had  hap. 
pened. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"    she  asked,  quickly. 

"There  is  a  letter  for  you  from  Mr.  Briggs,"  indi. 
eating  where  it  lay. 

"Oh,  has  it  come?"  and  Kate  walked  straight  to  it, 
without  stopping  to  remove  her  hat.  "  Not  quite  so 
Welcome  as  usual,"  she  added  with  a  brave  smile. 

Margery  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  burst  into 
tears.  For  a  minute  Kate  took  no  notice  of  her,  but 
presently  she  exclaimed : 

"  Margery,  stop  crying.     Listen  to  me." 


THE   COMMITTEE  DECIDE.  145 

Margery  rooked   up,  at  the   excited  tone.     Kate'a 
cheeks  were  burning. 
"This  is  what  Mr.  Briggs  says:  — 

DEAR  Miss  STANDISH,  —  At  a  meeting  of  the  committee 
yesterday,  it  was  unanimously  decided  to  offer  to  renew 
our  present  arrangement  with  you  for  the  coming  year. 
Be  kind  enough  to  apprise  us  of  your  decision  at  your  ear- 
liest convenience.  Very  truly  yours, 

C.  S.  BRIGGS." 

Margery  jumped  up  and  hugged  Kate  vehemently; 
then  snatching  the  banjo  from  its  corner,  she  struck  up 
the  wildest,  most  abandoned  jig  in  her  whole  reper- 
toire, tapping  the  rhythm  out  with  her  foot,  and  roll- 
ing her  head  about  in  true  darky  fashion. 

Kate  sat  down  and  laughed.  "  Stop,  you  absurd 
girl,"  she  cried. 

But  Margery  only  played  the  harder,  occasionally 
shouting  out  incoherently,  tapping  her  foot  and  waving 
her  head  with  still  greater  abandon,  until,  with  a  sud- 
den start,  she  let  the  banjo  swing  down  at  her  side  and 
laughed  merrily.  She  had  caught  sight  of  Aunt  Ann 
in  the  doorway,  her  hands  uplifted,  her  mouth  open, 
and  her  eyes  staring. 

"Law  bless  us!"  ejaculated  the  new-comer.  "I 
came  in  to  cheer  you  up,  but  it  seems  now  as  though 
you  need  calming  down  more." 

"Kate  has  the  placa  another  year.  It's  all  right. 
Hurrah ! "  cried  Margery,  starting  up  and  catching 
Aunt  Ann  around  the  waist,  preparatory  to  starting 
across  the  room  with  her  in  a  galop. 


146  NEXT   DOOK. 

*'  Mercy  —  Oh,  Margery  —  Oh,  please,"  puffed  Aunt 
Ann,  tumbling  after  her  determined  partner.  "  I 
haven't  any  objection  to  dancing,"  she  added. 

"Oh,  haven't  you!"  laughed  her  tormentor.  "I 
thought  you  had.  I  could  not  get  you  to  come  along." 

"  Where  it's  conducted  right,  and  folks  know  how," 
finished  Aunt  Ann  equably. 

"  Why,  I  conducted  you  beautifully,  but  there  is 
Kate  waiting  to  be  congratulated." 

"My  dear  child,  I  just  expected  it  would  turn  out 
that  way,"  cried  the  other,  turning  to  Kate  and  shak- 
ing both  her  hands  warmly.  Ah,  Aunt  Ann,  beware ; 
your  secret  is  getting  very  slippery  and  hard  to  hold ; 
but  hold  it,  if  you  value  the  favor  of  your  elder  niece. 
"I  was  sure,  I  —  precisely,  I  just  knew  it  would  be  all 
right,"  she  finished,  smiling  and  stammering  as  she 
released  Kate. 

"  Well,  I  was  far  from  sure,"  replied  the  latter,  tak- 
ing off  her  outer  garments. 

"  And  we  have  an  invitation  to  a  pai-ty,  a  musical 
party,  Aunt  Ann,"  announced  Margery,  now  able  to 
enjoy  that  fact  with  zest,  "and,  more  wonderful  still, 
we  are  going.  Such  is  the  royal  decree." 

"And  quite  right,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  cheerfully. 

"The  trouble,"  said  Kate,  "  is  clothes.  I  have  my 
graduating  dress.  It  will  do  very  well,  but — " 

"  Now,  Kate,  you  are  interfering  in  my  province," 
interrupted  her  sister ;  "  that  dress  won't  do  for  you 
at  all.  It  is  pretty,  but  it  is  flimsy  and  cheap,  and  will 
be  just  the  thing  for  me,  made  a  yard  or  two  shorter 


THE  COMMITTEE  DECIDE.  14? 

T  find  I  must  have  been  thinking  out  the  dress  problem 
with  my  cerebellum  all  the  time  this  church  affair  has 
been  hanging  over  us,  for  I  find  it  is  quite  clearly  set- 
tled in  my  mind.  You  are  to  have  a  new  dress ;  we 
can  afford  it  now,  and  it  shall  be  fitted  by  the  grandest 
modiste  in  Boston,  and  I  will  make  it.  We  will  all 
three  go  together  to  buy  it,"  finished  Margery,  with  a 
joyful  flourish. 

Kate's  eyes  shone  with  an  equal  pleasure.  "You 
are  very  indulgent  to  me,  Margery.  I  do  not  know 
about  it." 

"  If  one  of  you  must  have  it,  it  seems  sensible  that 
you  should  be  the  one,"  remarked  Aunt  Ann.  "1 
suppose  it  will  be  white  muslin." 

"Horrors!"  exclaimed  Margery,  irreverently;  but 
she  immediately  patted  her  aunt's  hand  to  make  up  for 
the  disrespect.  "  That  will  do  for  me,  but  Kate  must 
be  different.  Besides,  we  cannot  afford  white,  and  it 
must  be  something  that  she  can  wear  ever  so  many 
times  without  its  being  remarked,"  she  finished,  con- 
sidering hopefully  that  if  Kate  consented  to  attend  one 
party,  it  might  lead  to  better  things.  "C'est  le  prem- 
ier pas  qui  coute" 

"Margery  will  do  the  best  that  any  one  can  do,'"  said 
Kate,  looking  at  her  sister  affectionately.  "  She  has  a 
genius  for  clothes.  I  only  wish  she  had  a  broader 
scope  in  which  to  exercise  it." 

"And  here  is  another  letter  for  you,  Kate,"  said 
Margery,  starting  up  to  get  it.  "  I  nearly  forgot  it  in 
my  excitement  ever  Mr.  Briggs." 


148  NEXT  DOOR. 

Kate  took  it  from  her.  "  From  Madam  Sevrance," 
Bhe  remarked,  breaking  the  seal  and  glancing  over  its 
contents.  "  Well,  well,"  she  added,  presently,  "  this  is 
very  Apropos  just  now.  Madam  Sevrance  has  written 
me  a  list  of  the  names  of  the  ladies  likely  to  be  at 
Mrs.  Farrar's  whom  she  wishes  us  to  cultivate."  Here 
she  began  reading  aloud:  "Mrs.  Knox,  very  artistic  in 
her  tastes,  paints  well  in  water  colors ;  Mrs.  Ludlow, 
very  deaf,  but  supersensitive ;  Mrs.  Manning,  has  writ- 
ten a  book  of  poems  —  her  nom  deplume  Marion  Day ; 
Mrs.  Brackett,  —  " 

"  Oh,  Kate ! "  protested  Margery. 

"  There  is  quite  a  long  list  of  them,"  observed  Kate. 

"  And  does  she  expect  us  to  remember?  I  can  never 
learn  those  and  make  a  dress  too  in  such  a  little  while," 
said  Margery,  aghast.  "  Was  there  ever  such  a 
woman!  First  she  would  not  let  us  go  anywhere, 
and  now  she  decides  we  may  go ;  but  mustn't  do 
it  in  peace." 

Kate  laughed.  "Aunt  Ann  must  come  in  and  sit 
with  you  and  hear  you  say  your  lesson,"  she  said  ; 
"  and  now  I  will  look  over  my  accounts  and  decide 
how  fine  we  may  dare  to  make  ourselves  in  order  to 
charm  these  ladies  into  giving  me  their  teachable 
daughters." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

FRILLS  AND   FURBELOWS. 

THERE  were  exciting  scenes  for  the  next  few  days 
in  that  back  room  in  the  boarding-house.  Poor  Kate 
decided  she  should  never  care  to  play  the  onerous  part 
of  great  lady  if  all  modistes  were  as  autocratic  and 
exacting  as  Margery.  Aunt  Ann  entered  into  the 
melee  with  headlong  enthusiasm.  No  wonder  she  was 
slightly  distraught  at  dinner-time,  and  sometimes  an- 
swered her  gentlemen  at  random.  One  day  in  particu- 
lar she  had  been  spending  half  the  afternoon  in  at  the 
next  house.  The  dress  was  nearly  done.  It  was  a 
long  black  silk,  made  more  soft  and  youthful  by  drap- 
eries of  black  web  lace  which  Margery  had  to-day  been 
adjusting,  while  Aunt  Ann  stood  by,  with  her  hands 
full  of  pins,  which  she  offered  as  fast  as  the  deft  fingers 
were  ready  for  them.  It  had  been  a  very  particular 
undertaking,  that  draping,  and  Kate  was  tired  out 
before  the  young  dressmaker  gave  her  permission  to 
sit  down.  No  wonder,  that  evening  at  dessert,  that 
Aunt  Ann  asked  Mr.  Herring  if  he  would  not  "  eat 
another  dish  of  pleats." 

149 


150  NEXT  DOOR. 

She  blushed  and  laughed  over  her  blander,  and 
apologized  by  saying  that  she  had  been  helping  her 
nieces  to  get  ready  to  go  to  a  party,  and  that  the  gen- 
tlemen must  excuse  her  head  being  full  of  furbelows. 
Through  all  these  days  she  had  been  silent  at  home 
upon  this  absorbing  topic.  Aunt  Ann  was  learning  a 
new  sort  of  self-control.  She  realized  that  she  could 
best  please  and  serve  the  girls  by  being  silent  concern- 
ing  them ;  and  so,  until  now,  only  Kits  had  been  the 
recipient  of  her  enthusiastic  confidences.  Ray  she 
could  not  always  turn  oft.  She  willingly  rejoiced  with 
him  over  Kate's  good  fortune  in  retaining  her  choil 
position,  but  not  a  word  had  she  said  about  the  party 
until  now.  He  seized  quickly  upon  the  admission. 

"Where  are  they  going?  I  thought  they  never 
went  out,"  he  said. 

"Why  shouldn't  they  go  out?"  asked  Aunt  Ann, 
with  dignity. 

"No  reason  at  all.  Every  reason  why  they  should. 
Where  are  they  going:"'  he  repeated. 

"  I  forget  the  lady's  name,"  replied  Aunt  Ann,  un- 
conscious how  far  she  was  exasperating  her  questioner. 

"  Think  a  minute.     Try  to  think,"  he  urged. 

"Ray,  I  tell  you  I  forget.  I  have  an  idea  it  is  that 
Madam — Madam  —  don't  you  know  who  it  is  teaches 
Kate?" 

"  Madame  Sevrance,  perhaps,"  suggested  Mr.  Wiley, 
softly. 

"  That's  it,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  placidly. 

Ray  frowned,  and  plied  his  knife  and  fork  savagely 


FEILLS  AND   FURBELOWS.  151 

He  had  no  invitation  from  Madam  Sevrance.  Mr. 
Sharp  compassionately  laid  a  hand  on  his  forehead, 
which  the  other  shook  off  with  a  muttered  epithet. 
Kay  considered  himself  very  hardly  used.  He  was 
meeting  night  after  night,  through  the  kindness  of  his 

O  O  O  '  O 

much-sought  uncle,  bevies  of  charming  ladies,  who 
were  all  kind  to  him,  as  women  are  to  a  well-connected, 
handsome,  frank  boy;  also  many  young  girls,  good  talk- 
ers, capital  dancers,  in  whose  company  he  passed  many 
gay  hours ;  but  the  one  thing  he  wanted  happened  to 
be  Margery.  None  of  these  others  had  the  charm, 
whatever  it  was,  that  distinguished  her  for  him.  Of 
course,  the  obstacles  that  prevented  his  meeting  her 
added  fuel  to  the  flame  of  his  admiration ;  and  the 
entirely  new  experience  of  wanting  something  very 
much  which  nobody  stepped  forward  to  procure  for 
him,  wrought  him  into  a  state  of  fuming  rebellion 

'  C5  O 

highly  amusing  to  his  uncle,  who,  by  clever  sounding, 
had  in  the  last  few  days  found  out  all  there  was  to 
know  of  the  relations  between  his  nephew  and  the 
young  girls  who  of  late  had  been  thrust  upon  his 
care  and  attention. 

The  night  of  Mrs.  Farrar's  Musicale  arrived,  and 
found  Margery  ready  for  it.  With  modest  pride  she 
surveyed  the  two  gala  costumes  lying  on  the  bed. 
Aunt  Ann  came  hurrying  in  ns  soon  as  she  could 
decently  leave  her  family,  to  see  the  girls  dress,  and,  if 
it  were  permitted,  even  to  help  them.  But  it  was 
not  easy  for  any  one  else  to  render  assistance  in  that 
une  to  Margery.  Aunt  Ann  soon  found  herself  stowed 


152  NEXT   DOOR. 

away  in  a  corner,  while  Margery,  in  deshabille,  first 
skilfully  dressed  her  sister's  soft,  light  hair,  and  then 
put  on  her  the  chef  d'oeuvre  which  had  caused  so 
many  needle-pricks  in  her  own  little  fingers. 

"  Well,  Kate,  you  look  as  though  you  had  been 
melted  and  poured  into  it!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Ann, 
admiringly,  scanning  the  graceful  lines  of  her  niece's 
figure. 

"  No  wonder,"  said  Kate,  laughing.  "  It  has  been 
made  on  me.  I  feel  like  one  of  these  dolls  whose 
dresses  won't  come  off." 

"Isn't  it  comfortable?"  asked  Margery,  anxiously. 

"  Yes,  you  good  child,  it  is.  Now  let  me  do  the 
rest,  and  dress  yourself.  You  will  not  be  ready." 

"Yes,  I  shall.     I  can  do  it  in  five  minutes." 

"Then  your  hair  will  come  down,"  said  Kate.  "You 
know  how  it  acts." 

"  No,  I  have  five  packages  of  hairpins  to  put  in," 
returned  Margery,  rejoicing  in  her  sister's  beauty,  and 
giving  loving  touches  to  the  handsome  lace  which  was 
their  mother's,  and  which  filled  in  the  open,  square 
black  corsage. 

"Now,  if  we  had  some  flowers,"  she  murmured 
ecstatically;  and  as  she  said  it  the  flowers  came. 
They  were  handed  in  at  the  door  by  Mrs.  Brown's 
maid,  who  looked  eagerly  in  at  Miss  Standish's  un- 
wonted splendor.  All  three  crowded  around  the  box, 
uttering  exclamations  of  delight  at  the  rich  array  oi 
Jacqueminot  roses,  and  the  lavish  and  exquisite  buncb 
of  English  violets. 


FRILLS   AND   FURBELOWS.  153 

"Margery,  have  you  Aladdin's  lamp?"  cried  Kate. 

Margery  colored  high  with  excitement  and  pleasure. 
She  could  not  but  be  well  assured  of  Ray  Ingalls1 
admiration;  and  she  had  not  a  doubt  that  he  was  the 
giver  of  this  second  box,  so  far  more  gorgeous  than 
the  first. 

"  Who  sent  them  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Ann. 

"  There  is  no  card ;  but  it  must  have  been  Madarn 
Sevrance,"  replied  Kate.  "  What  a  whole-souled 
woman  she  is  !  She  is  evidently  determined  to  leave 
no  stone  unturned  to  make  us  a  success,"  and  she 
registered  a  mental  vow  to  exert  herself  to  the  utmost. 

"No  matter  who  sent  them,"  said  Margery,  tri- 
umphantly, "I  am  going  to  put  every  one  of  the  Jacks 
on  you." 

"Indeed  you  are  not,"  said  Kate,  decidedly,  "simply 
because  you  like  them  best.  I  prefer  the  violets. 
Go  on,  Margery  dear,  and  dress  yourself.  You  must 
hurry.  Madam  Sevrance  will  be  here  soon.  What 
can  I  do  to  help  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  replied  the  girl,  carelessly,  pulling  down 
the  masses  of  her  hair. 

Aunt  Ann  watched  her  in  wonder,  as  she  piled  it  up 
again  with  practised  hands  in  her  own  pretty  fashion, 
which  was  one  no  one  else  could  copy.  Then  she  put 
on  the  white  muslin,  whose  effect  caused  the  partial 
aunt  to  break  forth  into  rapturous  exclamations  and  a 
private  wish  that  Ray  might  see  her,  just  as  she  was, 
for  one  minute.  How  brilliant  they  both  looked'  in 
Jhe  homely  room.  How  commonplace  their  costumes 


154  NEXT   DOOR. 

would  become  in  Mrs.  Farrar's  parlors.  But  the  girls 
themselves,  with  their  bright  eyes,  creamy  necks,  and 
graceful  figures,  could  never  become  commonplace  in 
any  crowd.  Aunt  Ann  was  perfectly  right  in  admir- 
ing them  with  the  tears  in  her  eyes.  She  was  thinking 
of  their  mother. 

But  the  carriage  was  at  the  door.  Aunt  Ann  went 
down  stairs  with  them,  and  assisted  them  to  enter, 
catching  a  vague  glimpse  of  their  chaperone  as  she  did 
so ;  then  the  carriage  drove  off,  and  she  watched  it 
out  of  sight,  carrying  her  dear  girls  away  to  their  first 
glimpse  of  "  society." 

Kate's  first  words,  after  her  greeting,  were  to  thank 
Madam  Sevrance  for  the  flowers. 

"  They  came  at  the  moment  we  were  wishing  for 
them,  and  I  never  saw  such  beautiful  ones,"  she  said. 

"  I  didn't  send  you  any  flowers,"  returned  the  other, 
abruptly,  but  with  interest. 

"You  did  not?"  rejoined  Kate,  in  great  surprise. 
"Then,  who  in  the  world,  —  Oh,"  she  added,  for  she 
suddenly  thought  of  Ray. 

Margery  squeezed  her  hand  in  the  darkness,  and  then 
Kate  knew  that  her  sister  had  divined  the  truth  at  once. 

"Whom  have  you  thought  of?"  asked  Madam  Sev- 
rance. 

"I  —  the  only  person  it  could  be  is  a  young  gentle- 
man who  knows  us,  and  who  boards  with  our  aunt  ; 
but  I  did  not  suppose  he  knew  about  to-night,"  replied 
Kate. 

"I  am  afraid  your  aunt  chatters,"  said  Madam 


FRILLS   AND   FURBELOWS.  155 

ranee,  shortly.  Poor  Aunt  Ann,  when  she  had  been 
BO  discreet ! 

In  the  dressing-room  Madam  Sevrance  regarded  her 
charges  with  high  favor.  Particularly  on  Kate  her 
eyes  rested  with  critical  pleasure.  "  I  have  an  easy 
task,  this  time,"  she  thought,  "  if  only  I  do  not  find  a 
difficulty  in  undoing  my  own  work." 

It  was  pretty  to  see  Margery's  self-forgetfulness  car- 
ried out  in  arranging  Kate's  flowers  and  buttoning 
her  gloves.  Madam  Sevrance  noticed  it,  and  approved 
of  the  young  girl  more  than  she  had  ever  done.  She 
felt  it  very  creditable,  also,  in  Margery,  to  be  so  pretty 
and  well  dressed.  She  would  never  be,  in  any  way,  a 
drawback  to  Kate. 

Those  who  knew  Madam  Sevrance  best  marvelled 
at  the  unusual  affability  of  her  manner  this  evening; 
and  if  they  ascribed  it  to  satisfaction  in  the  charming 
girls  she  was  chaperoning,  they  were  not  far  wrong. 

Ray  Ingalls  happened  to  see  the  trio  enter  the  room. 
Madam  Sevrance  in  black  velvet,  with  diamonds  in 
her  ears ;  Kate,  tall,  and  fair  as  a  young  princess  ;  and 
Margery,  a  very  snowdrop, — but  no  matter,  we  will 
not  try  to  transcribe  the  similes  which  flashed  into 
Ray's  mind  as  he  recognized  Margery  in  her  festive 
array.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  his  face,  changing  from 
calm  indifference  to  radiant  delight,  attracted  the  eye 
of  his  uncle,  who  immediately  looked  toward  the  en- 
trance to  find  a  reason  for  the  transformation.  As  he 
recognized  the  new-comers,  he  smiled.  "The  boy  is 
bard  hit,"  he  mused. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MRS.  FARRAR'S  MUSIC  ALE. 

HE  himself  watched  the  new-comers  for  a  time  with 
approving  eyes.  At  last,  meeting  a  glance  from  Madam 
Sevrance  which  seemed  to  convey  the  idea  that  he 
was  not  performing  the  whole  duty  of  a  man,  he  came 
forward  to  accost  her. 

She  had  informed  him  of  her  intention  to  bring  the 
girls  to-night.  He  had  even  known  that  Kate  was  go- 
ing to  have  a  new  dress,  and  that  it  was  to  be  black. 

The  latter  was  still  occupied  in  conversation  with 
the  hostess,  but  Madam  Sevrance  presented  him  to 
Margery,  who  stood  by  her  side.  He  bowed  to  her  in 
his  sombre  fashion,  but  the  kindest  light  came  into  his 
eyes  as  she  held  out  her  hand  and  smiled. 

"Mr.  Exton  and  I  are  not  quite  strangers,"  she  said, 
archly. 

"  So,  you  have  not  forgotten  our  little  adventure." 
he  returned  as  he  shook  her  hand. 

"  Oh,  you  have  had  a  little  adventure,"  said  Madanj 
Bevrance,  a  trifle  sharply. 

uYes,"  returned  Exton.     "Miss  Margery  may  re 
156 


MRS.  FARRAR'S   MUSICALS. 

count  it  to  you,  if  she  likes.  I  should  not  have  the 
courage." 

Ray  Ingalls,  who  had  been  holding  himself  in  check 
while  Madam  Sevrance  was  introducing  her  charges  to 
various  friends,  now  presented  his  claims,  looking 
rather  severe  and  jealous,  —  the  effect  of  Margery's 
cordial  reception  of  Mr.  Exton ;  but  he  found  nothing 
co  complain  of.  Margery  was  also  cordial  to  him ;  in- 
deed, very  glad  to  see  one  familiar  face  among  the 
crowd  of  strangers,  a  fact  which  she  told  him,  as  soon 
as  he  had  been  favored  with  a  bow  and  scrutiny,  both 
short,  from  Madam  Sevrance. 

"  Let  me  find  you  a  good  place,"  he  said,  eagerly, 
offering  her  his  arm ;  and  she  walked  away  with  him. 

Madam  Sevrance  and  Exton  followed  the  young 
couple  with  their  eyes. 

"I  knew  your  sister's  ideas  very  well,"  remarked 
the  former.  "Were  she  living  she  would  probably 
prefer  that  her  son  should  devote  himself  to  some  one 
else." 

"  Is  it  a  case  of  devotion  ?  " 

"  I  only  suspect  it.  The  girls  are  sure  the  beautiful 
flowers  they  are  wearing  this  evening  came  from  him, 
although  they  do  not  know  whom  to  thank." 

Mr.  Exton  smiled  serenely.  "  Flowers  are  always 
welcome,"  he  replied. 

Madam  Sevrance  felt  irritated  by  his  calmness.  •"  I 
hope  you  will  look  after  your  nephew,"  she  said, 
curtly ;  **  my  girls  have  no  one  to  defend  them." 

"  I  wish  all  young  ladies  had  as  stanch  protection 


158  NEXT   DOOR. 

So  you  want  to  make  me  your  co-worker  again,  do 
you?"  asked  the  other,  lightly. 

"Ah,"  she  returned,  warmly,  "if  you  could  always 
be  so  powerful  as  you  were  in  the  church  matter." 

"  I  must  beg  you  again  not  to  give  me  all  the  credit 
for  that." 

"  I  shall  until  you  explain  how  it  was  done,  —  until 
you  tell  me  how  much  you  did." 

"  I  pulled  a  few  wires  ;  so  did  some  of  the  others. 
Mine  were  more  successful  ;  that  is  all." 

"John  Exton,  I've  known  you  from  a  boy,  and  I 
never  before  knew  you  so  obstinate.  It  looks  sus- 
picious, sir." 

"  Were  not  your  orders,  '  by  fair  means  or  foul  '  ?  " 
he  asked,  the  same  quiet  smile  touching  the  corners  of 
his  lips.  "  Take  my  arr*,.  My  mother  wishes  to  see 
you,  arid  the  music  will  soon  begin." 

"Where  is  Kate?"  asked  the  Madam,  undeter- 
minedly,  as  she  laid  her  hand  within  his  arm. 

"  She  is  in  the  next  room,  talking  to  Mrs.  Brackett." 

"Well,  you  must  be  clairvoyant,"  observed  the 
other,  with  a  laugh,  "  for  your  back  has  been  turned 
that  way  all  the  time." 

Ray  meanwhile,  inwardly  chuckling  over  his  own 
astuteness,  had  escorted  Margery  to  a  seat  in  the  hall 
behind  some  plants,  which  had  struck  him  as  pecu- 
liarly eligible  when  he  passed  through,  some  minutes 


"Is  this  a  good  place?"  asked  his  companion,  doubt 


MRS.  FARRAR'S  MUSICALE.  159 

"Capital.  The  acoustics  of  this  house  are  very 
peculiar,"  returned  her  companion,  soberly.  "  You 
will  discover  in  a  minute  ho\v  perfectly  we  shall  hear. 
There  is  so  much  more  charm  about  music  when  one 
does  not  see  the  performer.  Don't  you  think  so?" 

"  Not  when  it  is  Kate,"   returned  Margery,  loyally. 

"Oh,  of  course  not  when  it  is  Kate,"  agreed  Ray, 
promptly,  seating  himself  beside  her  in  the  very  cosey 
niche,  and  luxuriating  in  his  good  fortune.  "  But 
when  she  sings  we  can  go  out,"  he  added,  fervently 
hoping  that  Miss  Standish's  name  came  last  on  the 
programme. 

"  Oh,  she  does  not  sing  to-night.  We  are  not  pro- 
fessional to-night,"  added  Margery,  half  joking,  half 
earnest.  Many  a  past  precept  and  warning  had  been 
flitting  through  her  head  this  evening. 

"  You  are  not  professional  at  any  time,  are  you  ? " 
asked  Kay,  amused. 

"  I  am  whatever  Kate  is,"  returned  Margery,  stoutly. 

He  laughed.     "What  is  your  profession?"  he  asked. 

Margery  colored.  "  You  had  better  not  laugh  at 
me  just  when  I  am  preparing  a  pretty  speech  about 
my  flowers." 

"They  are  gorgeous,  against  all  that  white,"  he 
replied,  gazing  admiringly  at  the  red  blossoms,  all 
sweetness  and  vivid  coloring,  like  Margery  herself,  he 
thought. 

"  Do  not  think  to  put  me  off  the  track  by  praising 
them,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head  at  him.  "I  knevtf 
"immediately  that  you  sent  them.  Kate  and  I  were 


160  NEXT   DOOR. 

both  so  pleased,  and  yet  it  was  too  kind.  You  must 
not  do  so  any  more." 

A  hot  wave  of  vexation  swept  over  the  young 
fellow's  face.  "I  did  not  send  them,"  he  said, 
reluctantly.  "I  did  not  even  know  you  were  going 
out  this  evening.  Aunt  Ann  did  not  say  when  it 
was.  I  wish  I  had  known.  I  wish  they  had  been  my 
gift." 

Margery  looked  at  him;  at  first  sceptically,  then 
an  expression  of  utter  mystification  settled  over  her 
face. 

"  Then,  who  was  it ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  cannot 
bear  mysteries.  It  was  not  Madam  Sevrance ;  it  was 
not  you  —  there  is  nobody  else." 

"It  might  have  been  Aunt  Ann,"  suggested  Ray, 
with  a  gleam  of  hope. 

"  No,  indeed.  She  was  there  when  they  arrived,  and 
was  as  much  astonished  as  we  were.  You  know  she 
cannot  act." 

"I  noticed  your  sister's  violets.  Were  they  with 
the  roses?" 

"Yes,  certainly.  Who  could  it  have  been?"  and 
Margery  looked  into  her  companion's  clouded  face  as 
though  to  wrest  the  secret  from  his  innermost  soul. 

"Some  unknown  admirer,  no  doubt,"  he  replied; 
and  by  the  tinge  of  a  sneer  in  his  tone,  the  girl  per- 
ceived not  only  that  it  was  bitterness  of  spirit  to  him 
that  any  one  else  should  send  her  flowers,  but  that  he 
was  really  ignorant  of  the  donor. 

"  Oh,  thank  you  for  suggesting  that  idea,"  she  said. 


MRS.  FARRAR'S  MUSICALE.  161 

with  mischievous  sweetness.  "It  is  so  pleasant  to 
think  that  one  may  have  unknown  admirers.  I  am 
sure  they  must  be  the  most  interesting  sort." 

Ray  frowned,  but  fortunately  at  this  point  some  one 
in  the  next  room  began  to  sing,  and  during  the  song 
his  countenance  cleared. 

Kate  was  in  the  parlor,  seated  beside  one  of  the 
ladies  whom  she  had  been  obediently  cultivating.  The 
singer  happened  to  be  the  very  person  who  had  so 
narrowly  escaped  being  Kate's  successor  at  the  Church 
of  the  Apostles.  As  she  listened,  an  unusual  color 
crept  into  her  cheeks  and  rested  there.  She  could 
not  help  wondering  how  many  of  the  congregation 
were  present  and  regretting  that  they  were  not  to 

have  Miss  B in  the  choir.  She  felt  uncomfortably 

conscious  as  she  joined  in  the  applause. 

John  Exton,  stationed  not  far  distant,  read  correctly 
her  transparent  face.  In  the  buzz  and  movement  that 
followed  the  music  he  attempted  to  approach  her ;  but 
Mr.  Wiley  glided  before  him,  and  leaned  over  her 
chair.  Exton  watched  her  as  she  talked  with  him, 
turning  to  the  lady  beside  her,  as  if  to  include  her  in 
the  conversation.  This  lady  leaned  toward  Madam 
Sevrance,  who  happened  to  be  near,  and  laughingly 
referred  to  her  some  subject  under  discussion.  Soon 
a  bevy  of  heads  were  bent  forward,  and  Kate  was  the 
centre  of  the  vivacious  group. 

Exton  watched  the  lights  and  shades  of  expression 
play  over  her  face,  and  the  curiosity  and  admiration 
in  her  companions'  glances.  He  drew  near  the 


J62  NEXT  DOOR. 

charmed  circle,  and  watched  for  his  opportunity  to 
claim  her  attention. 

"  We  are  accusing  Miss  Standish  of  being  severely 
critical,"  murmured  Mr.  Wiley,  addressing  the  new- 
comer. "  She  holds  that  a  dramatic  style  in  parlor 
singing  is  in  poor  taste." 

"  She  is  evidently  too  near  the  piano,"  returned 
Exton,  meeting  Kate's  eyes.  "  If  you  will  trust  me, 
Miss  Standish,  I  think  I  can  find  you  a  better  place 
than  this." 

Kate's  manner,  which  had  been  somewhat  troubled 
and  deprecatory,  immediately  became  frigid. 

When  Margery  related  to  her  Ray  Ingalls'  story  of 
the  choir  discussion,  she  unintentionally  conveyed  the 
idea  to  Kate  that  Ray  knew  his  uncle  to  be  in  favor 
of  dispensing  with  her  services.  Although  Kate  never 
referred  to  it,  the  knowledge  had  rankled.  She  was 
thoroughly  ashamed  of  what  she  termed  her  narrow- 
ness, in  denying  to  Mr.  Exton  his  right  to  prefer  some 
one  else;  and,  while  scolding  herself  for  this,  and 
striving  to  take  an  impartial,  unemotional,  business 
view  of  the  matter,  she  found  somewhere,  very  deep 
down  in  her  —  she  called  it  vanity  —  a  little  hurt  spot, 
the  result  of  the  knowledge  that  he  was  dissatisfied 
with  her  voice.  For  this  she  despised  herself.  She 
aspired  to  be  broad-minded.  More  than  that,  she 
aspired  to  be  indifferent  to  all  opinions  save  that  of 
her  conscience,  as  befitted  a  working  girl,  with  a  living 
to  get  for  herself  and  her  sister. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  the  mingled  consid 


MKS.  FARRAR'S  MUSICALS.  163 

orations  which  moved  her  to  rise  immediately  and 
accept  his  offered  arm.  For  one  thing,  she  disliked 
her  accidentally  conspicuous  position  ;  and  for  another, 
she  feared  he  might  suspect  her  of  a  desire  to  avoid 
him.  Then  Madam  Sevrance  had  added,  "Yes,  child, 
go.  You  are  really  too  near." 

"Mr.  Wiley,  I  bequeath  my  chair  to  you,"  Kate 
said,  as  she  rose.  "You  have  frightened  me  away," 
and,  with  a  smiling  bow  to  the  others  of  the  group, 
she  moved  off.  John  Exton  looked  down  at  the 
violets  on  her  bosom,  for  their  scent  was  wafted 
toward  him,  then  lifted  his  eyes  to  her  flushed  face. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  you  did  not  care  for  Miss  B 'a 

singing,"  he  observed.  "  She  needs  a  larger  place." 

"Like  a  church,"  thought  Kate.  "I  have  not  said 
I  disliked  it,"  she  replied,  quietly. 

Against  her  will  she  enjoyed  the  fact  of  being  with 
her  companion,  and  found  in  it  the  first  exciting  cir- 
cumstance of  her  evening.  So  far  she  had  been  work- 
ing, really  working,  under  Madam  Sevrance's  orders. 
She  had  been  attentively  seeking  to  know  and  to 
please  those  whom  the  teacher  had  suggested ;  but 
this  walking,  or  rather  of  necessity  sauntering,  with 
John  Exton  in  the  perfume  and  the  light,  transformed 
her  from  the  would-be  shrewd  woman  of  business  into 
a  young  girl  at  her  first  party,  leaning  upon  the  arm 
of  the  only  man  she  had  ever  admired.  Kate  did  not 
acknowledge  this.  She  only  vaguely  felt  herself  in 
danger,  and  in  need  of  recalling  every  cynical  precept 
vt  her  teacher. 


164  NEXT   DOOR. 

She  struggled  against  all  pleasurable  sensation.  He 
knew  hers  and  Margery's  need,  yet  had  not  scrupled 
to  try-  to  deprive  them  of  much  of  their  support. 
Why  should  she  admire  him  ?  Why  should  she  be 
walking  with  him  ? 

But  she  suddenly  awoke  to  the  .fact  that  he  wati 
Bpeaking.  "  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  was  saying  that  you  probably  are  not  yet  able  to 
feel  as  much  at  home  in  Boston  as  in  New  York." 

Kate  shook  her  head  with  a  smile.  "I  seem  not  to 
be  the  same  person  who  lived  in  New  York,"  she 
said. 

"By  that  I  suppose  you  mean  that  you  dislike 
Boston  ?  " 

"  Does  not  every  one  agree  that  childhood  is  the 
happiest  part  of  life  ?  I  was  a  petted  child  in  New 
York.  I  am  a  woman  in  Boston." 

Her  replies  were  not  encouraging,  but  Mr.  Exton 
seemed  not  to  be  disturbed  by  their  curtness. 

".Do  you  know  many  here  to-night?"  he  asked. 

"  They  are  all  strangers  to  me ;  but  I  have  found 
them  very  cordial  and  kind,  thanks  to  being  Madam 
Severance's  protegee" 

"It  is  quite  unfair  to  ascribe  it  to  that.     You  —  " 

"Please  tell  me  who  that  lady  is,"  she  said,  sud= 
denly,  interrupting  him.  She  would  not  receive  his 
compliments.  "  The  one  in  the  corner,  with  the  white 
hair.  I  was  introduced  to  her,  and  we  had  quite  * 
little  conversation,  but  I  did  not  catch  the  name.  Sh« 
Uas  an  interesting  face,  but  a  strange,  irritable  manner 


MKS.  FARRAR'S  MUSICALS.  165 

[  should  not  imagine,"  and  the  girl  smiled,  "  that  she 
•vould  be  agreeable  to  live  with." 

O 

"That  is  my  mother,"  said  Mr.  Exton,  simply. 

"  Oh ! "  exclaimed  Kate,  softly  and  in  horror.  "  Do 
forgive  me." 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  other,  without  embarrass- 
ment. 

"It  hurts  me  to  have  said  such  a  thing,  not  onlj 
because  it  was  a  silly  and  rude  mistake,  but  because  it 
must  be  such  a  blessing  to  have  a  mother  to  live  with," 
ohe  said,  with  a  little  unaffected  break  in  her  voice. 

"My  mother  is  not  well,  she  is  a  great  sufferer,"  he 
observed,  explanatorily. 

"Ah,  I  am  so  sorry,"  murmured  Kate,  feeling  unut- 
terably foolish  and  crushed,  and  only  conscious  of  one 
wish, — to  release  Mr.  Exton  from  attendance  upon 
her. 

"I  think  she  wants  you  now,"  she  suggested.  " She 
seems  to  me  to  be  trying  to  attract  your  attention.  I 
can  sit  right  here.  It  is  at  a  pleasant  distance." 

Exton  looked  around.  His  mother  signalled  him 
with  her  fan,  and,  excusing  himself,  he  obeyed  the 
summons.  Kate  immediately  rose,  slipped  through  a 
neighboring  door,  and  disappeared. 

Proceeding  through  the  adjoining  apartment  she 
found  her  way  into  an  empty  room,  evidently  a  library, 
where  a  deep  grate  fire  was  burning.  Without  con- 
sidering that  it  might  be  counted  as  a  discourteous 
mark  of  indifference  to  the  entertainment  should  she 
be  seen  here,  she  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  at  finding 


166  NEXT   DOOR. 

herself  alone,  and,  sinking  into  a  large  morocco  chaii 
in  a  corner  farthest  from  the  fire,  she  gazed  into  ita 
glowing  depths  and  gave  herself  up  to  thoughts  of  the 
gloomiest  tinge.  She  wished  that  Madam  Sevrance 
had  not  relaxed  her  ideas.  She  wished  heartily  that 
she  had  not  obeyed  her.  Her  very  dress  was  a  luxury 
which  it  was  daring  to  afford.  Her  enjoyment  of  a 
few  minutes  since  was  a  luxury  deadly  to  her  peace  of 
rnind.  She  thought  of  her  home  in  the  boarding-house. 
"God  has  put  us  there,"  she  thought.  "That  is  one 
life,  this  is  another.  I  cannot  mingle  the  two.  Poor 
Margery,  how  will  this  affect  her?"  and  then  she  re- 
membered that  she  did  not  know  where  Margery  was. 
She  had  seen  her  as  Ray  was  leading  her  out  of  the 
room,  and  she  had  no  doubt  that  he  would  improve 
the  shining  hour  to  the  utmost  by  remaining  Margery's 
shadow  all  the  evening. 

"It  is  a  rare  chance  for  him,  and  he  has  been  very 
kind,"  thought  Kate,  drooping  her  head  over  the  de- 
licious blossoms,  which  she  believed  she  owed  to  him. 
"  It  will  not  happen  again  soon  ;  perhaps  it  will  never 
happen ;  certainly  it  will  not,  unless  Madam  Sevrance 
procures  us  invitations.  Oh,  I  will  beg  her  not  to!" 

As  she  determined  upon  this,  a  step  approached  the 
door  of  the  library  and  stopped.  The  gas-jets  were 
turned  low  in  the  room.  Kate  shrank  back  into  her 
chair,  hoping  to  escape  detection.  For  the  first  time 
it  flashed  upon  her  how  mortifying  it  would  be  to  be 
discovered  in  a  room  which  evidently  was  not  intended 
to-night  for  guests.  Music  from  piano  and  violin  waa 


MRS.  FARRAR'S  MUSICALB.  167 

sounding  in  the  distance.  Kate  held  her  very  breath. 
The  figure  in  the  doorway  wore  the  conventional  dress' 
suit;  but  without  looking  higher  than  the  broad  shoul- 
ders she  recognized  the  man.  Surely  he  would  turn 
away.  Her  heart-beats  were  painful. 

Mr.  Exton  came  deliberately  in.  "This  is  very 
pleasant,  Miss  Standish,"  he  said.  "Did  you  intend 
to  be  a  monopolist?" 

"  How  did  you  know  I  was  here  ?  "  she  asked,  breath^ 
lessly. 

"  I  smelled  violets.     They  are  my  favorite  flowers." 

He  advanced  and  stood  beside  her.  "I  have  been 
hunting  for  you  everywhere." 

She  looked  up  at  him  in  genuine  surprise. 

"  And  now  I  have  the  mortification  of  feeling  that 
you  are  vexed  at  being  found." 

She  had  to  steel  herself  against  the  kindness  of  his 
voice,  even  while  she  felt  grateful  to  him  for  not  re- 
senting her  blunder.  She  had  given  him  good  oppor- 
tunity to  avoid  her,  and,  of  his  own  will,  he  had 
chosen  to  search  for  her  instead.  His  next  words 
dashed  her  dawning  complacence  to  the  ground,  and 
brought  her  to  her  sober,  every-day  senses. 

"  I  have  been  commissioned  to  find  you,  and  to  beg 
that  you  will  sing." 

"  Oh,  — yes,"  she  said,  straightening  up  in  her  chair, 
and  leaiiing  on  the  arm  farthest  from  him.  "I  sup« 
pose  I  ought  to  be  grateful  for  the  opportunity." 

"Do  not  consent,  if  it  is  disagreeable,"  said  Mr.  Ex 
ton,  hastily,  supposing  her  to  be  sarcastic. 


168  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  consider  my  wishes.  If  1  am 
given  an  opportunity  to  sing,  and  show  my  method 
where  it  is  likely  to  procure  me  teaching,  I  ought  to 
be  glad,"  she  replied,  with  the  explicitnesa  which  she 
hated,  but  deemed  a  healthful  tonic. 

"  You  are  young  to  hold  such  strictly  business  ideas," 
observed  her  companion ;  and,  although  she  did  not 
look  up,  she  suspected  him  of  smiling. 

"  I  am  not  so  young  as  you  think,"  she  returned } 
having  been  instructed  long  ago,  by  her  preceptress, 
to  conceal  the  damaging  fact  of  her  youth  whenever 
possible. 

"Not  yet  twenty,  I  should  say." 

"  I  am  twenty-one,"  she  rejoined,  hastily. 

"  Indeed,  so  old ! "  he  said ;  arid  then  she  knew  he 
was  laughing  at  her. 

"I  ought  not  to  have  told  you,"  she  said.  "Please 
do  not  betray  me.  It  would  be  better  for  me,"  she 
added,  half  sadly,  "  money  in  my  pocket,  as  Madam 
Sevrance  would  say,  if  I  were  thirty-one  instead." 

"  Then  you  would  be  as  old  as  I  am.  But  I  find 
myself  having  committed  an  awful  solecism  —  ferreting 
out  a  lady's  age.  I  must  return  to  my  errand.  It  is 
my  mother,  joining  her  request  to  Mrs.  Farrar's,  who 
wishes  to  hear  you  sing." 

Kate  colored  brightly  in  the  firelight.  "  Then  I 
shall  certainly  sing,"  she  said  softly  and  quickly. 

"  Thank  you.  It  will  please  her  very  much.  Do 
you  know,  Miss  Standish,"  he  continued,  hesitating  i 
little,  and  speaking  very  kindly,  "I  fancied,  when  I 


MRS.  FAERAR'S  MUSICALE.  169 

first  discovered  you  in  this  lonely  room,  that  you  had 
perhaps  come  away  here  because  you  were  vexed  and 
annoyed.  I  wish  to  make  peace  between  you  and 
your  own  thoughts.  Promise  me  you  will  not  upbraid 
yourself  about  a  trifle." 

"It  was  no  trifle,"  replied  Kate,  in  a  smothered 
voice  but  with  emphasis.  "It  was  something  to  do 
penance  for  all  one's  life.  It  was  a  mistake  which 
proves  that  the  perpetrator  is  unfit  for  society." 

"Do  not  say  that.  Such  mistakes  are  bound  to 
happen,  especially  perhaps  among  those  who  have  not 
yet  learned  the  arts  and  suavities  of  social  life." 

"  Or  the  charity  that  thinketh  no  evil,"  added  Kate. 

"At  all  events,  they  trouble  the  perpetrator  more 
than  the  victim.  Do  you  not  suppose  that  I  felt  rnoxe 
hurt  for  you  than  for  myself  when  you  gave  that 
adverse  opinion  ?  " 

"Are  you  as  generous  as  that?" 

"Would  not  any  person  of  commonest  good  feeling 
experience  the  same  sensation.  Would  you  not?" 

"Even  I?"  said  Kate,  with  an  unhappy  little  laugh. 

"  Come,  we  are  making  too  much  of  this,"  continued 
her  companion.  "  If  you  really  must  do  penance  in 
order  to  be  satisfied,  come  and  sing  for  my  motliei. 
They  would  like  the  song  to  follow  the  next  number." 

He  was  very  kind.  Kate  felt  it ;  but  under  all 
burned  that  little  secret  hurt.  He  did  not  care  to 
near  her  sing.  Her  one  accomplishment  had  not 
power  to  please  him.  She  stifled  the  half-formed 
thought  resolutely,  and  rose  to  take  his  arm.  As  <*na 


170  NEXT  DOOR. 

did  so,  two  or  three  violets  fell  from  her  dress.  H« 
stooped  and  picked  them  up,  carrying  them  in  hia 
hand  as  they  went. 

Passing  into  the  hall  instead  of  going  back  through 
the  parlors,  they  spied  Margery  and  Ray  in  their  nook 
behind  the  plants.  The  piano  and  violin  had  ceased, 
and  these  two  were  chattering  like  a  pair  of  young 
magpies  whose  tongues  had  long  been  restrained. 

"  They  look  very  comfortable,"  said  Mr.  Exton. 

"  Yes,  too  comfortable,"  said  Kate,  uneasily,  turning 
in  their  direction. 

"  Are  you  going  to  disturb  them  ?  " 

"I  think  I  must." 

Ray  saw  the  movement  and  cast  a  quick  frown  at 
his  uncle  and  an  apprehensive  glance  at  Kate.  The 
invaders  came  straight  on,  around  the  flower  pots,  and 
stood  beside  them. 

"  Are  you  having  a  nice  time,  Kate?"  asked  Mar- 
gery, airily. 

"  Yes,  but  why  are  you  not  out,  dear,  making  your- 
self agreeable?"  asked  Kate,  significantly. 

"  Oh,  she  has  been  making  herself  agreeable,  Miss 
Standish,"  said  Ray,  earnestly. 

"I  just  had  not  the  courage,  Kate,"  replied  the  girl, 
pouting.  "Mr.  Exton,"  appealing  to  her  sister's 
grave  escort,  "do  you  think  it  would  be  polite 
for  me  to  go  out  and  talk  to  people  between  the 
numbers?" 

"  It  is  the  custom,  yes.  If  you  like,  you  know,"  he 
added. 


MRS.  FARRAR'S  MUSICALE.  171 

"  Well,  I  do  not  like.  Madame  Sevrance,  knowing 
we  were  strangers,  made  out  for  us  the  most  absurd  list 

~  ' 

of  people  with  their  peculiarities.  One  was  deaf,  and 
one  had  written  a  book,  and  another  painted." 

"  Lots  of  them  do  that,"  interpolated  Ray. 

"  Margery ! "  warned  Kate,  smiling  nevertheless  at 
her  sister's  unaffected  repugnance. 

"  Well,  all  is  I  have  had  too  much  else  to  think  of 
to  get  them  straight.  I  should  make  blunders  if  I 
tried  to  remember.  I  should  be  certain  to  praise  the 
artist's  book,  and  shout  at  the  authoress,  and  murmur 
confidences  to  the  deaf  lady." 

They  all  laughed.  "  Then  I  think  you  had  better 
stay  here  where  you  are  out  of  mischief,  Miss  Mar- 
gery," said  Mr.  Exton,  drawing  upon  himself  glances 
of  approval  and  blessing  from  his  nephew. 

"Is  she  out  of  mischief?"  thought  Kate,  breathing 
a  sigh,  and  looking  at  her  sister's  happy  face.  Mar- 
gery was  evidently  in  her  element.  Well  dressed, 
daintily  gloved,  leaning  back  among  the  tall  plants 
with  her  companion's  happy  eyes  upon  her,  and  his 
light-hearted  talk  in  her  ears,  she  did  not  care  how 
many  hours  slipped  by. 

"Ah,  Kate!"  she  exclaimed,  looking  up.  "I  must 
tell  you.  Mr.  Ingalls  did  not  send  us  our  flowers." 

"Is  it  possible?"  returned  Kate,  startled.  "Our 
flowers,"  she  continued,  addressing  Mr.  Exton  in  ex- 
planation, "rained  down  upon  us  to-night,  like  the 
gift  of  a  good  faiiy-  W»  *re  at  a  loss  whom  to 
thank." 


172  NEXT   DOOR. 

He  smiled  in  polite  acquiescence.  "  Flowers  should 
always  be  anonymous,  as  they  come  to  us  first,"  ha 
said,  and  inhaled  the  fragrance  of  the  violets  in  his 
hand. 

"  But  I  ought  to  take  advantage  of  this  lull  to  let 
Mrs.  Farrar  know  that  I  will  sing,"  said  Kate,  suddenly 
bethinking  herself. 

"  May  I  leave  you  here  a  minute  and  carry  the  mes- 
sage?" asked  Exton. 

"If  you. please;  and  see  if  Madam  Sevrance  will 
£ome  out  and  speak  with  me.  She  will  play  my 
accompaniment." 

Mr.  Exton  immediately  turned  away,  and  Ray 
promptly  rose  and  offered  his  place  to  Kate,  who 
accepted  it  with  alacrity.  It  was  on  the  farther  side 
of  Margery,  and  offered  no  facilities  to  any  one  who 
might  wish  to  stand  beside. her  and  converse. 

All  too  soon  for  at  least  two  of  the  company  the 
evening  came  to  a  close.  After  Kate's  song,  Mr.  Ex- 
ion  had  come  to  Ray  and  reminded  him  that  they  were 
due  at  a  reception,  and  had  tarried  at  Mrs.  Farrar's 
long  enough. 

"  I  am  not  going,  Uncle  John,  if  you  do  not  care," 
Ray  had  replied.  "So  long  as  we  are  having  a  good 
time  here,  what  is  the  use?" 

Uncle  John  had  raised  his  eyebrows  and  turned 
away,  leaving  his  nephew  in  doubt  as  to  his  own  inten- 
tions ;  but  at  the  end  of  the  evening,  when  Ray  escorted 
Margery  to  the  carriage,  he  found  Mr.  Exton  assisting 
Kate  in. 


MRS.  FARR  ATI'S  MUSIC  ALE.  178 

Some  remarks  of  Madam  Sevrance  on  the  home- 
ivarcl  way  are  worth  recording. 

"  Well,  Kate,  you  seem  to  have  made  a  conquest  of 
Mrs.  Exton,"  she  said.  "  I  saw  her  petting  you  after 
your  song.  Indeed  she  told  me  before  you  sang  that 
it  was  a  pity  you  should  be  a  teacher ;  your  voice  was 
so  soothing  she  thought  you  would  read  aloud  well, 
and  would  be  an  invaluable  companion  for  some  one 
like  herself."  The  carriage  was  too  dark  to  reveal  the 
sharp  flash  in  the  speaker's  black  eyes,  or  the  color  that 
swept  over  Kate's  face.  "  She  is  a  strange  old 
woman,"  proceeded  Madam  Sevrnnce.  "It  is  her 
mania  that  every  unmarried  woman  under  ninety 
Avants  to  marry  John.  She  has  some  ground  for  it,  to 
be  sure,  and  still  it  sometimes  makes  her  ridiculous. 
She  is  barely  civil  to  all  possible  aspirants." 

Another  silence,  during  which  Kate's  cheeks  tingled. 

"Does  she  suspect  you,  Madam  Sevrance?"  sug- 
gested Margery,  lightly. 

"  Me? "  with  the  greatest  surprise.  "  No ;  and  would 
not  if  I  were  twenty  and  beautiful.  I  should  still  be 
—  not  above  suspicion,  but  below  it.  Am  I  not  a 
woman  who  goes  into  the  city  every  day  to  earn  her 
bread  and  butter?" 

"And  velvet  and  diamonds,"  added  Margery, 
eolto  voce.  But  the  Madam's  sharp  ears  caught  the 
words. 

"So  much  the  more  fortunate  business  woman  I; 
but  not  the  more  eligible." 

Kate  wondered  hotly  if  these  remarks  could  be  aimed 


174  NEXT   DOOR. 

Bt  her.  They  were  so  much  in  her  teacher's  uguaf 
strain  that  she  could  not  be  sure. 

When  "good  nights"  were  exchanged,  and  the  girla 
were  once  more  in  their  room,  Margery  took  off  her 
wrappings  and  revealed  a  fresh,  happy  face,  very  dif- 
ferent from  Kate's  tired  one. 

"  Oh,  you  glorious  Kate  ! "  she  said,  heartily,  "  how 
proud  I  was  of  you  to-night  when  you  sang !  1  came 
out  to  the  door  and  watched  people  to  see  how  they 
took  it,  and  I  was  satisfied.  I  distinctly  heard  one  lady 
gay, '  She  is  a  beautiful  creature.' " 

Kate  laughed  wearily,  and  thi-ew  her  shawl  over  a 
chair.  "  What  a  compliment  to  my  voice ! " 

"  Oh,  but  you  were ! "  exclaimed  her  fond  sister. 
"Your  dress  is  a  success,  and  you  were  so  calm,  and 
graceful,  and  sweet,  and  your  singing  was  —  well,  I  do 
not  blame  your  unknown  admirer  in  the  least.  Why," 
after  waiting  an  instant  in  an  expectant  attitude, 
"  why  do  you  not  ask  me  what  I  mean  ?  I  can  a  won- 
drous tale  unfold." 

"  Unfold  it  by  all  means." 

Kate's  tone  was  not  urgent,  but  Margery  was  noth- 
ing daunted.  She  came  and  leaned  her  hands  on  the 
bureau  before  which  Kate  was  taking  off  her  finery. 

"  Ray  Ingalls  has  found  out  what  they  did  in  the 
music  committee  meeting." 

"  Don't  we  know  that  already?" 

"Did  you  know  that  one  of  the  committee  arose  and 
rtated  that  a  certain  influential  member  of  the  society 
was  particularly  desirous  of  retaining  Miss  StandisJj 


MRS.  FARRAR'S  MUSICALE.  173 

hi  the  choir  ?  That  this  gentleman,  learning  that  Miss 

B would  require  a  salary  one  hundred  dollars  lesa 

than  Miss  Standish,  was  prepared  to  make  up  the 
deficit  out  of  his  own  pocket  rather  than  lose  Miss 
Standish  ?  There  ! "  cried  Margery,  triumphantly, 
'"that  is  appreciation!  You  have  captivated  some 
delightful,  rich  old  fogy,  Kate,  and  I  congratulate 
you." 

Kate  regarded  her  beaming  face  with  annoyed  sur- 
prise. 

"  Is  that  true  ?     I  do  not  like  it  at  all." 

"  That  is  unfortunate ;  for  it  is  true,  perfectly." 

"Does  Mr.  Ingalls  know  who  this  benefactor  is?" 

"  He  hasn't  the  least  idea." 

"Then  we  surely  cannot  find  out,"  replied  Kate; 
"  aud  there  is  comfort  in  that." 

Margery  leaned  her  excited,  happy  face  against  her 
sister's  shoulder  so  that  both  were  reflected  in  the 
mirror.  She  was  silent  for  an  instant,  then  she  burst 
forth  : 

"What  an  aggravating  woman  Madam  Sevrance  is! 
How  she  loves  to  fling  about  her  iinpleasant  ideas ! " 

*' Tonics,  call  them,"  said  Kate. 

"  Fiddle-de-dee,  healthy  people  do  not  need  quinine. 
The  idea  of  her  talking  that  way  about  Mr.  Exton,  the 
trentle,  dignified,  lovely  man  !  Oh,  I  had  a  good  time 
expressing  my  opinion  of  him  to  Mr.  Ingalls.  How 
.-M-OSS  it  made  him  ! "  and  Margery  laughed  in  gleeful 
retrospection.  "  Men  are  terribly  vain.  They  dislike 
to  bear  one  another  praised  more  than  women  do,  I  am 


176  NEXT   DOOR. 

Kure.  Well,  Mr.  Exton  does  make  his  nephew  seem 
green." 

"  You  did  not  tell  Mr.  Ingalls  that ! " 

"  No,  not  exactly ;  but  I  am  sure  I  implied  it.  I 
felt  honest,  and  I  talked  honestly,  and  let  my  enthu- 
siasm have  full  play." 

"  Margery,  supposing  he  should  repeat  your  nonsense 
to  his  uncle  !  " 

"No  danger  of  that  —  I  mean  no  hope.  If  he  only 
would,  it  might  set  Mr.  Exton  thinking.  He  would 
say  to  himself,  'There  is  that  lovely  young  girl  in 
Berkshire  Street  pining  for  me.' " 

"He  would  be  more  likely  to  say,  *  There  is  that 
Billy,  gushing  school-girl  — '  " 

"Hush!"  interrupted  Margery.  "It  would  flatted 
him  tremendously.  What  good  fun  it  would  be  to 
astonish  Madam  Sevrance  by — " 

"Don't ! "  said  Kate,  quickly.  "Joke  on  some  other 
subject,  please.  It  hurts  my  self-love  to  hear  you  talk 
about  Mr.  fcxton.  Think  how  totally  uninteresting 
either  of  us  wou.d  be  to  a  man  who  has  travelled  and 
seen  and  done  so  much.  I  felt  out  of  place  to-night, 
Margery,"  facing  her  sister,  suddenly,  "  and  as  though 
I  would  never  repeat  the  experiment  if  I  could  help  it. 
I  fear  you  do  not  agree  with  me." 

"  Indeed,  no ;  I  felt  as  though  I  had  slipped  into 
place  at  last,  and  as  though  I  would  like  to  repeat  the 
experiment  six  times  a  week.  Kate,  dear,  why  AVI  11 
you  find  a  red-hot  handle  to  everything,  and  insist  upon 
taking  hold  of  it  ?  I  suppose  you  are  deep  and  I  know 


MRS.  FARRAR'S  MUSIC  ALE.  177 

I  am  shallow,  but  surely  we  both  ought  t><  be  happy 
to-night  —  fresh  from  so  many  compliments  ind  kind 
words.  Some  friend  cared  enough  for  our  pleasure  to 
send  us  these  flowers.  Some  other  body  is  willing  to 
pay  a  hundred  dollars  a  year  extra  to  hear  you  sing  on 
Sunday.  There  are  two  friends,  and  Aunt  Ann  and 
Kits  are  two  more,  and  we  have  each  other.  Let  me 
put  your  violets  with  the  roses.  We  must  make  them 
last  as  long  as  we  can.  May  the  great  unknown  feel 
it  in  all  his  bones  when  we  are  going  to  another 
party  1 " 

"  Ah,"  said  Kate,  looking  affectionately  at  her  busy 
sister,  "  you  are  healthy,  Margery.  I  do  not  believe 
you  need  any  quinine  1 " 


CHAPTER  XVTL 

CROSS-QUESTIONINGS. 

KATE'S  first  attempts  toward  gaining  social  popn* 
larity  met  with  success.  There  was  no  doubt  that  she 
carried  off  the  honors  of  Mrs.  Farrar's  evening,  musi- 
cally, and  her  conscientious  efforts  to  ingratiate  herself 
with  the  possible  patrons  there  assembled  were  not 
without  effect.  To  Mrs.  Exton,  especially,  she  showed 
a  most  natural  and  sweet  deference  after  that  unfor- 
tunate and  unkind  criticism  of  her;  and  the  fancy  of 
the  capricious  old  lady  was  delightfully  touched  by 
the  girl's  striking  beauty,  winning  manner,  and  fresh 
voice. 

She  accosted  her  son  on  the  subject  the  moment 
their  carriage  had  turned  toward  home. 

Settling  back  into  her  corner,  and  resting  her  head 
against  the  cushions,  she  spoke  in  the  weary,  nasal 
tone  into  which  tired  women  fall. 

"  I  wonder  where  Madam  Sevrance  found  her,  John? 
She  is  as  graceful  and  at  ease  as  any  girl  I  know." 

"  What  is  there  surprising  in  that,  mother  ?  "  Mr, 
Exton  spoke  abruptly. 

178 


CEOSS-QUESTIONINGS.  179 

"  It  is  a  pity  I  am  so  seldom  able  to  go  to  church," 
continued  the  other,  "  and  yet  it  was  she,  was  it  not, 
whom  the  committee  thought  of  sending  away?  I  am 
very  glad  they  decided  not  to  do  it.  I  shall  save 
myself  on  purpose  to  go  next  Sunday.  She  told  me 
that  they  were  to  have  some  extra  music.  Where," 
reverting  to  her  first  question,  "  did  Madam  Sevrance 
find  her?" 

"  She  found  Madam  Sevrance,  I  believe." 

"Oh,  indeed;  a  Boston  family?" 

Mr.  Exton  smiled  at  the  eagerness  of  the  question. 
"Probably,  —  once.  You  could  not,  as  a  free-born 
American,  ask  for  an  older  name.  No ;  Miss  Stan- 
dish's  father  was  a  New  Yorker,  I  believe." 

Mrs.  Exton  relapsed  into  her  corner.  "  Why  didn't 
she  stay  in  New  York,  then?  I  suppose  there  are 
plenty  of  music  teachers  there.  Was  her  father  pres- 
ent to-night?" 

"  I  cannot  be  sure.  Mr.  Standish  departed  this  life 
some  time  since." 

"  You  seem  to  know  a  great  deal  about  them,"  said 
the  other,  with  a  touch  of  resentment. 

"  It  happens  fortunately  for  you,  does  it  not?"  asked 
the  son,  quietly. 

"  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  what  this  departed  fathei 

IVH3." 

"When  he  died?" 

«  Well  —  yes." 

"  A  ruined  speculator.     He  died  here  in  Boston." 

"Ah,  then,  perhaps  his  daughter  simply  remained 


180  NEXT   DOOR. 

here  because  she  hadn't  money  enough  to  return  to 
New  York.  But,  then,  how  could  she  afford  to  takp 
lessons  of  Madam  Sevrance?  Her  prices  are  exorbi- 
tant." 

Mr.  Exton  smiled  into  the  gloom.  "  That  is  between 
themselves;  but  I  imagine  Miss  Standish  pays  that 
debt  in  some  other  coin  than  that  we  are  accustomed 
to.  Madam  Sevrance  is  very  fond  of  her,"  he  added. 

"  And  well  she  may  be.  I  dare  say  she  dresses  her," 
said  Mrs.  Exton.  "  She  was  well  dressed  ;  in  fact,  she 
appeared  in  every  way  quite  as  well  as  any  girl  I 
know." 

"  And  again  I  ask,  why  should  that  surprise  you  ?  " 

"You  know  that  is  a  very  foolish  question." 

"Indeed  I  do  not.  I  really  wish  you  would  enlight- 
en me." 

"  I  am  surprised  at  you,  John.  A  woman  so  young 
as  Miss  Standish,  who  teaches  to  support  herself ! 
What  time  has  she  had  for  self-cultivation?  I  am 
not  taking  into  consideration  now  her  antecedents; 
but  you  say  her  father  was  nobody,  and  her  mother  — 
how  about  her  mother  ?  " 

"  Her  mother  was  a  farmer's  daughter ;  sister  of 
Ray's  housekeeper." 

"  No ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Exton,  in  excessive  surprise. 
"  Sister  of  that  person !  " 

"Miss  Eaton  is  an  excellent  cook,"  suggested  the 
Dther,  tranquilly. 

"And  you  think  that  it  is  not  surprising  that  the 
niece  of  an  excellent  cook,  a  mere  drudge,  should  look 


CROSS-QUESTIONINGS.  181 

find  move  and  speak  as  that  young  creature  did  to- 
night?" asked  Mrs.  Exton,  between  triumph  and 
amazement. 

After  a  moment  of  vain  waiting  for  a  reply,  she  con- 
tinued :  "  By  the  way,  my  son,  I  do  not  like  Ray's 
calling  that  woman  aunt." 

"Miss  Standish  calls  her  so." 

"That  is  a  different  matter!"  was  the  haughty 
reply.  "  Why  should  you  compare  itay  to  Miss  Stan- 
dish?  I  wish  you  would  give  Ray  to  understand  that 
it  is  not  fitting  for  him  to  address  that  woman  —  what 
is  her  name?" 

"Eaton." 

"  Well,  Miss  Eaton,  so  familiarly." 

"  I  see  no  harm  in  it,  mother,  and  would  rather  not 
interfere  in  such  a  trifling  matter." 

"You  are  very  odd  in  some  things,  John.  You 
haven't  quite  all  the  perceptions  that  I  should  ex- 
pect"; but  while  uttering  this  criticism,  Mrs.  Exton 
turned  her  languid  eyes  upon  her  son  with  an  adoring 
expression.  "  I  will  see  Ray  and  have  a  talk  with  him 
myself.  Where  did  he  disappear  to  to-night?  He 
ought  to  have  stayed  longer.  It  was  hardly  respectful 
to  Mrs.  Farrar." 

"He  was  there  to  the  very  end,"  and  Mr.  Exton 
smiled.  "  He  I'emained  pretty  much  in  one  spot,  how- 
ever, in  a  remote  corner  with  a  charming  companion," 

Mrs.  Exton  laughed  indulgently.  "  Who  was  the 
companion?  Abby  Waite?  She  is  a  pretty  littla 
thing." 


182  NEXT   DOOR. 

"No,  she  was  another  pretty  little  thing.  Misa 
Margery  Standish." 

The  old  lady  frowned  as  suddenly  as  she  had 
laughed. 

"Is  there  another  of  them?" 

"Miss  Standish  has  a  sister,  yes." 

"How  could  you  allow  it,  John?  —  I  mean  allow 
Ray  to  behave  so." 

"I  suppose  it  would  have  been  quite  a  different 
thing  if  he  had  chosen  to  behave  so  with  Miss  Waite." 

"Why  of  course  it  would.  John,"  with  sudden 
perception,  "  he  becomes  acquainted  with  these  girl? 
through  their  aunt." 

"  I  suspect  he  does,"  remarked  the  son,  coolly. 

"  Why,  this  is  distressing ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Exton, 
sitting  up  straight  and  looking  down  a  long  vista 
of  possible  calamity.  "Those  people  are  always 
designing,  always  in  a  hurry  to  get  their  girls  married, 
and  Ray  is  so  young,  he  is  just  the  victim  for 
them." 

"Mother,  try  not  to  be  so  unreasonable."  John 
spoke  sternly  at  last.  "You  felt  unable  to  let  Ray 
come  to  us,  you  feared  he  would  disturb  your  health 
and  comfort  in  various  ways.  The  next  best  thing 
has  been  done.  Miss  Eaton  is  an  excellent  woman, 
and  we  are  most  fortunate  to  have  secured  her.  She 
is  one  of  the  simplest  creatures  in  the  world,  and 
Beems  really  fond  of  Ray." 

Here  Mrs.  Exton  groaned. 

"  Far  from  endeavoring  to  attract  the  young  man, 


CKOSS-QUESTIONINGS.  183 

these  young  ladies  have  avoided  him  as  far  as  they 
could.  He  told  me  so  himself." 

"Is  it  possible?"  replied  Mrs.  Exton,  hopefully. 
"Then  my  intuition  was  more  correct  than  my  fear 
Miss  Standish  must  be  just  what  she  appears.  She  ?a 
exactly  the  sort  of  person  one  would  like  to  have 
about  one  constantly ;  reposeful  and  harmonious." 

"  Provided,  of  course  that  she  kept  her  place,"  sug- 
gested the  son,  darkly. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  assented  the  other,  unsuspiciously. 
"  It  is  because  I  am  certain  she  has  tact  and  would 
never  annoy  me,  that  I  am  thinking  of  her." 

Mr.  Exton  laughed  outright.  "  Do  you  suppose 
you  can  buy  Miss  Standish  with  as  little  trouble  as 
you  had  last  week  in  purchasing  that  villainous  pug?" 

Mrs.  Exton  drew  herself  up  with  offended  dignity. 
"I  think  uhe  is  not  the  sensible  girl  I  take  her  for  if 
she  will  not  gladly  exchange  her  boarding-house  and 
monotonous  round  of  teaching  for  such  a  home  as  I 
shall  give  her.  She  could  go  on  singing  in  church 
just  the  same.  I  could  make  her  very  useful,"  added 
the  old  lady,  musingly. 

"  You  are  on  quite  the  wrong  track,  mother,"  said 
She  young  man,  struggling  with  his  irritation.  "  If 
you  wish  for  a  young  lady  companion,  we  can  easily 
find  one  for  you;  but  not  Miss  Standish.  Pray,  put 
that  out  of  your  mind  at  once,  else  you  will  be  greatly 
disappointed.  It  is  strange  you  can  consider  asking  a 
young  lady  to  abandon  her  profession  in  order  to  read 
and  sing  to  an  invalid." 


184  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  Why  should  I  not  offer  a  young  girl  an  easy  lif« 
in  place  of  a  hard  one  if  I  take  a  fancy  to  her?" 
asked  his  mother,  shortly.  "  This  is  not  the  sort  of 
matter  for  you  to  interfere  in,  my  son.  I  thought  you 
were  going  to  Mrs.  Hereford's  to-night,"  she  added, 
with  a  determination  to  change  the  subject. 

"I  did  intend  to  do  so,  but  I  found  Ray  disinclined, 
so  I  rather  lazily  followed  his  example." 

"I  think  I  must  see  Ray,"  observed  Mrs.  Exton, 
thoughtfully.  "  He  seems  a  child  to  me  still.  I  fear 
I  have  not  realized  sufficiently  the  necessity  of  super- 
vising him." 

That  she  should  have  the  least  difficulty  in  directing 
her  grandson's  tastes  and  movements,  hardly  occurred 
to  the  imperious  old  lady.  John  had  never  thwarted 
her.  He  had  grown  up,  passed  through  college,  and 
travelled,  like  many  another  fortunately  born  young 
man,  without  indulging  in  any  eccentricities  which 
could  annoy  her,  and,  at  his  father's  death,  had  taken 
his  honored  place  in  the  business  world  with  a  quiet 
capability  which  won  many  encomiums  from  hia 
mother's  friends,  and  only  confirmed  her  opinion 
that  in  all  the  world  no  one  had  ever,  or  would  ever 
rival  her  beloved  and  only  son  in  all  that  goes  to  make 
manhood  admirable. 

With  the  memory  of  the  deference  John  had  always 
paid  to  her  wishes,  Mrs.  Exton  then  scolded  herself 
gently  for  a  lamentable  lack  of  attention  to  her  orphan 
grandson,  and  the  very  next  day  sent  for  Ray  to  como 
sud  dine  with  her. 


CROSS-QUESTIONINGS.  185 

She  examined  him  critically  as  he  came  into  the 
room,  and  greeted  her,  his  face  alight  with  the  super- 
abundant  health  and  spirit  of  youth. 

"Does  not  your  conscience  reproach  you,  Ray?" 
she  asked,  receiving  his  kiss  with  unusual  cordiality, 
and  leaning  back  in  the  luxurious  chair  in  which  she 
was  always  to  be  found  when  outside  of  her  own 
chamber.  "  It  seerns  to  rne  you  have  neglected  me  of 
late.  Sit  down  here  and  let  me  lecture  you." 

"  Why  I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  say  so,"  returned 
the  young  fello\v,  taking  the  seat  she  indicated,  "  for 
that  means  that  you  have  been  well  enough  to  want  to 
see  me.  You  know  I  am  always  at  your  orders,  and 
only  do  not  wish  to  make  myself  a  nuisance." 

"Ah,  Ray,  had  I  only  been  well  enough  to  have  you 
live  here,  under  my  roof,"  sighed  the  old  lady.  "  That 
is  what  Irene  would  have  wished." 

"  My  mother  would  not  have  wished  you  to  be  uri 
comfortable." 

"It  is  not  I  who  would  have  been  made  uncomfort- 
able by  that  arrangement,  but  you,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Exton,  shaking  her  white  head  languidly.  "You  could 
not  have  had  patience  to  maintain  such  quiet  as  I  must 
have.  It  is  so  long  since  I  have  been  able  to  entertain 
at  all,  and  there  are  so  many  days  when  the  least  noise 
distracts  me,  it  would  be  but  a  sad  home  for  a  boy  like 
you,  and  yet  — "  she  hesitr.ted,  and  Ray  spoke  ear 
nestly. 

"Do  not  distress  yourself  in  the  least,  grandmother. 
I  am  quite  happy.  Ask  Uncle  John,"  casting  a  glance 


186  NEXT   DOOR. 

at  Mr.  Exton,  who  sat  near,  apparently  absorbed  in 
his  paper,  "if  I  am  not  well  situated;  or,  better  yet, 
some  evening  when  you  are  able,  come  and  see  me. 
Aunt  Ann  would  be  delighted." 

Mrs.  Exton  turned  her  eyes  until  they  met  his 
coldly.  "Who?"  she  asked;  "who  would  be  de- 
lighted?" 

"  Why,  Aunt  Ann ;  Miss  Eaton,"  he  responded,  un- 
suspiciously. 

"I  was  not  aware  that  we  had  the  honor  of  Miss 
Katon's  relationship." 

Ray  looked  up,  a  surprised  glance  in  his  brown  eyes. 

"  No,  of  course  not ;  but  every  one  in  Cedarville 
calls  her  aunt,  and  I  formed  the  habit  while  there." 

Mrs.  Exton  accepted  the  explanation  as  though  she 
bad  needed  it. 

"Ah!"  she  said,  with  a  short  nod;  "but  now  that 
you  are  not  in  Rome  you  need  not  do  as  the  Romans 
do." 

"  Oh,  it  would  quite  hurt  her  now  for  me  to  call  her 
Miss  Eaton,"  returned  Ray,  hastily.  "  She  is  very 
fond  of  me,"  he  continued,  with  fatuous  complacency  ; 
"she  seems  to  consider  me  as  one  of  her  own." 

"  Absurd ! "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  intolerantly. 
"  I  do  not  like  it  and  I  will  not  have  it.  She  is  your 
housekeeper  and  nothing  more,  Ray.  Pray,  do  not 
encourage  a  familiarity  which  was  well  enough  when 
you  were  a  child,  but  which  is  now  decidedly  out  of 
place.  You  can  never  be  sure  with  such  people  when 
ihey  will  cause  you  mortification.  It  is  better  to  pre« 


CROSS-QUESTIONINGS.  187 

rent  the  possibility  by  keeping  them  at  all  times  at  a 
proper  distance." 

Ray's  face  was  very  red.  "  Such  people!"  he  burst 
out.  "  What  sort  of  a  person  do  you  suppose  she  is? 
You  saw  her  nieces  last  night." 

Mr.  Exton  must  have  turned  his  attention  from 
heavy  editorials  to  the  newspaper  wit ;  for  he  here 
smiled  broadly  into  the  open  sheet. 

"  No,  I  saw  but  one  of  them.  She  is  a  beautiful 
girl.  It  really  grieved  me  to  think  she  had  not  been 
born  into,  and  fitted  to  fill,  a  higher  station.  She 
has  every  natural  advantage." 

"  She  is  fitted  to  fill  any  station,"  blurted  out  Ray, 
terribly  nettled.  "  So  is  her  sister." 

"My  dear,"  observed  his  grandmother,  compassion- 
ately, "you  are  very  young." 

"  I  suppose  I  am,"  cried  Ray,  rising  in  a  passion ; 
"but  young  as  I  am,  I  — " 

He  was  about  boldly  declaring  then  and  there  his 
love  for  Margery  Standish,  and  his  determination  not 
to  listen  to  a  word  in  disfavor  of  her  or  any  of  her 
belongings;  but  at  the  critical  moment  he  rnet  the 
steady  gaze  of  a  pair  of  deep  gray  eyes  above  the  low- 
ered newspaper,  and  for  a  second  he  paused. 

"  Mother,  it  naturally  annoys  Ray  to  have  you  set 
Ms  judgment  at  naught.  He  knows  these  young  ladies 
and  you  do  not." 

"At  least  he  knows  them  better  than  I  do,"  assented 
Mrs.  Exton,  apparently  unconscious  of  having  aroused 
any  deep  feeling,  and  immediately  reverting  to  the 


188  NEXT   DOOR. 

idea  of  her  own  benefit,  with  the  selfishness  of  hei 
invalided  condition.  She  turned  again  to  her  grand- 
Bon,  who  was  manfully  mastering  his  agitation. 

"  I  have  taken  a  great  fancy  to  Miss  Standish,"  she 
said.  "In  fact,  I  am  anxious  to  engage  her  for  a  com- 
panion. I  have  never  seen  any  one  before  whom  I 
wished  about  me  in  that  capacity.  How  do  you  think 
she  would  like  the  idea?" 

"  I  don't  think  she  would  like  it,"  returned  Ray, 
with  what  composure  he  could  muster,  "  and  you 
certainly  would  not." 

"Well,  that  is  just  what  I  want  you  to  tell  me," 
said  Mrs.  Exton,  raising  herself  and  leaning  on  an  arm 
of  her  chair.  "  What  is  the  reason  I  should  not  like 
it?" 

"For  many  reasons.  For  instance,"  said  Ray  reck- 
lessly, "  supposing  Uncle  John  were  to  fall  in  love 
with  her." 

"A  very  absurd  suggestion,"  said  Mrs.  Exton, 
sharply.  "Have  you  any  sensible  objection  to  offer? 
Have  I,"  becoming  suddenly  ironical,  "  touched  a  sore 
subject  in  discussing  this  young  girl?  Are  you  judg- 
ing your  uncle  by  yourself?  Is  it  possible  that  you 
fancy  yourself  impressed  by  Miss  Kate  Standish,  or 
are  you  only  making  a  general  defence  of  all  belonging 
to  Miss  Eaton  ?  " 

"  This  will  do,  I  think,  mother,"  observed  her  son, 
in  the  decided  tone  he  rarely  used  at  home.  "  Ray 
has  no  deeper  regard  for  Miss  Standish  than  I  have. 
[t  is  distasteful  to  discuss  her  in  this  way.  I  hope  you 


CROSS-QUESTIONINGS.  189 

do  not  think  seriously  of  your  new  fancy ;  but  if  yot» 
do,  your  best  way  will  be  to  call  on  the  young  lady, 
and  then  decide  it  between  yourselves.  As  for  Miss 
Eaton,  I  think  you  are  forgetting  how  highly  Irene 
regarded  her.  In  fact,  it  has  occurred  to  me  several 
times  since  she  came  to  Boston  that  her  home  in  the 
country  may  prove  the  very  place  for  you  to  go 
next  summer  —  a  place  where  you  can  be  undisturbed, 
and  have  a  quiet  change." 

"  Oh,  John,  I  hardly  think,"  returned  his  mother, 
meditatively,  —  "still,  it  may  be  possible.  Come, 
Ray,"  she  continued,  an  amused  smile  breaking  over 
her  face,  "smooth  that  ruffled  brow.  I  see  that  I 
have  unwittingly  underrated  this  remarkable  family ; 
but  I  shall  have  a  headache  if  we  discuss  them 
further.,  Let  us  adjourn  to  the  dining-room." 


CHAPTER 

KATE  ACCEPTS  ADVICE. 

AUNT  ANN  awoke  that  morning  in  a  very  pardon- 
able flutter  of  curiosity  to  hear  how  the  "party" 
passed  off. 

Ray's  enthusiastic  assurance  that  the  evening  had 
been  the  pleasantest  he  had  spent  in  Boston  did  not 
tend  to  allay  her  happy  excitement ;  and  at  an  early 
hour  she  presented  herself  in  her  nieces'  apartment. 
She  found  Kate  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  her 
toilet,  and  Margery  still  in  bed,  rubbing  her  pretty, 
sleepy  eyes,  and  quite  ready  to  wake  up  and  give  her 
aunt  a  detailed  account  of  decorations  and  dresses, 
and  the  compliments  she  and  Kate  had  received. 

Under  her  ingenious  handling  the  Misses  Standish 
became  very  important  features  of  Mrs.  Farrar's  enter- 
tainment, insomuch  that  Kate  was  fain  to  laugh 
heartily,  if  a  little  scornfully,  at  the  burst  of  delighted 
"Well,  wells f"  and  "Do  saysf"  that  escaped  from 
Margery's  enraptured  listener. 

"I  am  not  a  mite  surprised,  not  one  mite!"  ex- 
claimed Aunt  Ann  at  last,  smoothing  her  apron  and 
smiling. 

190 


KATE   ACCEPTS   ADVICE.  194 

"I  am  a  little,"  remarked  Kate,  pinning  her  collat 
before  the  glass.  "  I  fail  quite  to  recognize  ourselves." 

"Fie,  Kate!  Don't  spoil  a  good  story,"  said  Mar« 
gery,  good-naturedly.  "It  is  every  bit  true,  Aunt 
Ann.  Kate  never  will  see  herself  as  others  see 
her." 

"Just  so,"  responded  Aunt  Ann,  surveying  her 
elder  niece  with  pride.  "  Now,  Kate,  I  am  sure  you 
must  see  how  mistaken  your  finicky  notions  are,  and 
what  a  good  tiling  it  is  for  you  and  Margery  to  go  out 
a  little  and  shine  as  you  were  meant  to  do.  I  heard  a 
word  or  two  of  it  from  Ray ;  but  he  was  very  late  to 
breakfast  and  just  swallowed  a  cup  of  coffee  and  ran. 
\  told  him  I  was  sure  he  needn't  hurry ;  Uncle  John 
would  most  likely  be  late  himself." 

"  Do  not  speak  that  name  thus  lightly,"  said  Mar- 
gery with  a  portentous  sigh,  pressing  her  hands  upon 
%er  heart. 

Kate  flashed  one  glance  at  her,  and  then  turned  to 
tieir  visitor,  who  added,  coaxingly,  "Ain't  you  glad 
;ou  went  now,  dear?" 

"  If  it  proves  the  means  of  getting  me  new  pupils, 
yes,  Aunt  Ann." 

"  And  that's  all  you  care  for,"  exclaimed  the  latter 
in  amazement.  "  Well,  now,  a  body  would  think  you 
would  have  enjoyed  so  much  music,  and  gay  people  a- 
following  you  round,  and  Mr.  Exton  a-dancing  attend- 
ance on  you  and  all." 

Kate  groaned.  "  Fancy  Mr.  Exton  <  dancing  attend 
ince '  on  anybody,"  she  thought. 


192  NEXT   DOOR. 

"When  I  am  a  woman  of  leisure,  Aunt  Ann,"  8n« 
returned,  "  I  will  try  my  best  to  shine  for  brilliancy'* 
sake.  Now  it  must  be  in  the  interests  of  business." 

"  You  don't  want  to  try  to  be  brilliant,"  said  Aunt 
Ann,  simply,  "  you  only  want  to  try  to  make  people 
have  a  good  time.  I  take  it  you  don't  need  to  think 
much  about  yourself  till  afterward.  If  folks  are  try- 
ing to  make  others  happy  they'll  shine  fast  enough, 
and  girls  like  you  and  Margery  don't  need  to  throw 
away  the  pleasures  that  offer  as  you  go  along  through 
life.  I  mistrust,  Kate  my  dear,  that  you  are  very 
proud,"  she  added,  dubiously,  looking  at  the  girl  over 
the  top  of  her  spectacles. 

Kate  flushed  high. 

"Proud  as  a  queen,  proud  as  an  empress,"  pro* 
nounced  Margery,  emphatically. 

"Well,  there's  a  good  way  and  a  bad  way  of  being 
proud,"  remarked  Aunt  Ann,  throwing  out  the  sugges- 
tion in  her  simple  matter-of-fact  fashion.  "Have  you 
girls  had  any  breakfast?" 

"No,  indeed,"  cried  Margery,  springing  up  nimbly. 
"  Meals  in  the  room  extra,  and  Kate  and  I  do  not  have 
any  extras.  But  I  can  live  on  the  memory  of  Mrs. 
Farrar's  supper  a  good  while  yet." 

"You  will  both  go  right  in  with  me  and  get  a  good 
cup  of  coffee,  the  minute  you  are  ready,"  said  Aunt 
Ann. 

Kate,  who  had  been  removing  the  laces  from  her 
festal  garment,  here  put  an  arm  around  the  speakei 
ind  gazed  into  her  eyes. 


KATE   ACCEPTS   ADVICE.  l9S 

"Have  you  been  scolding  me,  Aunt  Ann?"  she 
asked,  with  an  assumed  frown. 

"I  don't  know,  my  dear,"  was  the  smiling  answer. 
*'If  you  deserve  it  I  have." 

Aunt  Ann  heard  a  good  deal  about  Mrs.  Farrar's 
party,  first  and  last.  Ray  conversed  glibly  upon  the 
topic  on  every  disengaged  evening  for  a  week  after- 
ward, his  grandmother's  conversation  having  had  only 
the  effect  of  making  him  more  ardent.  He  met  his 
neighbors  at  no  other  festivity,  and  so  the  musicale 
remained  the  pre-eminent  occasion  for  him.  Aunt 
Ann  could  not  long  remain  in  doubt  of  the  reality  of 
the  sentiment  with  which  Margery  had  inspired  the 
young  man,  and  although  she  feigned  ignorance  of  his 
intentions,  she  dwelt  much  upon  the  subject  in  secret, 
and  silently  gave  Ray  her  full  approbation  and  best 
wishes. 

Aunt  Ann  had  had  her  own  love  affair  of  course. 
No  one  looking  at  her  could  doubt  that.  She  had  had 
what  is  called  a  disappointment.  The  lover  of  her 
youth  had  deserted  her  for  a  widow  with  a  good  in- 
come, and  although  he  was  succeeded  by  other  aspi- 
rants, the  sweet-looking  and  capable  girl  had  but  a 
steadily  negative  answer  for  these.  She  believed  that 

"  After  loves  of  maids  and  men 
Are  but  dainties  dressed  again." 

She  could  not  love  twice,  and  her  father  needed  her. 
Aunt  Ann,  with  all  her  simplicity  and  credulity,  had  a 
lively  fear  of  seeing  her  experience  repeated  in  the 


194  NEXT  DOOE. 

life  of  either  of  her  nieces,  and  carefully  refrained 
from  taking  the  responsibility  of  lifting  so  much  as  a 
finger  toward  bringing  the  young  people  together. 

"Perhaps  after  all  Ray's  feeling  isn't  the  deep  and 
lasting  kind,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  and  on  the  other 
hand,  perhaps  Margery  don't  care  for  him,  and  never 
will." 

One  Sunday  Kate  had  come  out  into  the  street  after 
church  and  was  walking  briskly  toward  home,  enjoying 
the  bright,  frosty  air,  when  she  heard  hurried  steps 
behind  her  on  the  stone  walk.  She  had  no  doubt  that 
Ray  Ingalls  was  following  her.  He  had  begun  the 
habit  of  escorting  her  home  on  Sunday  and  she  was 
very  cordial  to  him  on  those  occasions  in  consideration 
of  the  obedience  he  had  shown  in  abstaining  from  at- 
tentions which  he  was  manifestly  suffering  to  pay  to 
her  sister. 

There  was  a  smile  on  her  face  as  the  pursuer  came 
beside  her.  She  looked  up,  but  it  was  John  Exton 
who  lifted  his  ha*  as  he  met  her  glance. 

The  color  flashed  into  her  face  as  she  greeted  him. 
"I  thought  you  were  Mr.  Ingalls,"  she  said.  "We 
sometimes  take  the  walk  home  together." 

"It  is  a  pleasant  day  to  walk,  and,  as  I  wished  to 
see  you,  I  took  the  liberty  of  supplanting  Ray,  and  of 
sending  him  home  with  my  mother.  You  know  disci- 
pline is  good  for  youth." 

Kate  smiled.  "  That  was  certainly  very  mild  disci 
pline,"  she  answered,  trying  not  to  be  so  glad  to  heal 
that  quiet  voice  again. 


KATE   ACCEPTS  ADVICE.  195 

"You  are  a  good  walker,  Miss  Standish,  if  you  da 
this  every  Sunday." 

"  Yes,  I  am  a  good  Avalker,  and  a  spur  to  my  abili- 
ties is  a  very  cordial  and  very  improper  dislike  cf 
street-cars.  As  my  teaching  takes  me  in  various 
directions,  I  have  plenty  of  practice." 

"  There  you  have  an  immense  advantage  over  young 
ladies  who  have  only  shopping  and  calling  to  break  in 
upon  their  sedentary  habits." 

"I  am  afraid  I  should  enjoy  relinquishing  that  ad- 
vantage." 

"You  mean  you  do  not  like  teaching?" 

Kate  bit  her  lip.  "I  spoke  too  hastily,  as  I 
Beem  fated  to  do  with  you,  Mr.  Exton.  I  believe 
I  ought  to  ask  you  to  avoid  me,"  she  continued, 
with  a  short  laugh.  "You  seem  to  rouse  my  any 
tagonism." 

"An  antagonism  to  me?  If  so,  I  must  rouse  it  in 
order  to  overcome  it." 

"  No,  not  to  you ;  to  things,"  returned  Kate,  vaguely. 
"  I  would  not  for  worlds  have  had  Margery  hear  my 
silly  speech.  I  think  really  when  I  am  in  my  right 
mind  I  am  perfectly  contented." 

"  Well,  it  is  decidedly  unkind  of  you  to  imply  that 
you  are  only  out  of  your  right  mind  when  you  are 
with  me." 

Kate  colored.  "  I  proved  it,  I  am  sure,  once  upon  a 
time." 

"  Have  you  not  forgiven  yourself  yet  ?  I  was  afraid 
BO.  That  is  why  I  wished  to  see  you  to-day." 


196  NEXT  DOOR. 

"Then,  although  you  have  forgiven,  you  have  not 
forgotten,"  said  the  girl,  quickly. 

"  I  haven't  the  faculty  of  forgetting.  My  mother, 
Miss  Standish,  quite  unsuspicious  of  your  strictures 
upon  her,  is  meditating  making  a  request  of  you." 

"What  is  it?  I  will  do  anything  for  her,"  replied 
Kate,  quickly. 

"That  is  what  I  was  afraid  of,"  observed  Exton. 
deliberately.  "I  thought  I  had  discovered  a  touch  of 
the  noble  Quixote  about  you,  and  I  was  not  sure  how 
far  it  might  lead  you." 

"Really!"  exclaimed  Kate,  "I  am  not  mad  all  the 
time,  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Exton.  I  am  certain  you  are 
not  a  clever  judge  of  character  —  " 

"  Then  you  will  promise  not  to  assent  to  my  mother's 
wishes,  simply  because  she  will  coax  you,  and  you 
have  maligned  her?" 

"I  will  not  say  that.  On  the  contrary,  I  cannot 
conceive  of  Mrs.  Exton's  making  a  request  that  I 
ghould  not  comply  with." 

"Very  likely;  but  her  request  is  going  to  surprise 
you.  I  still  hope  to  divert  her  from  making  it;  but 
my  mother  has  suffered,  Miss  Standish ;  she  has  been 
greatly  deferred  to,  and,  in  short,  is  accustomed  to 
having  her  own  way.  I  fear  she  will  insist  this  time, 
and  I  hope  you  will  not  —  I  don't  know  how  to  say  it. 
What  I  mean  is,  to  beg  you  to  treat  her  exactly  as 
though  you  had  never  thought  or  spoken  slightingly  of 
her.  Will  you?" 

"  I  never  like  to  make  promises." 


KATE  ACCEPTS   ADVICE.  197 

*'Do  you  mean  that  you  never  make  them?" 

"Of  course  a  young  lady  does  only  what  she  likes 
to  do,"  replied  the  girl,  smiling. 

"Is  that  why  you  refused  an  invitation  to  Mrs. 
Langdon's  Friday  evening?  Has  a  small,  informal 
danee  no  charms  for  you?" 

"Oh,  how  did  you  find,  that  out?"  said  Kate, 
guiltily.  "Through  Madam  Sevrance,  of  course,"  she 
added,  answering  her  own  question.  "  I  hope  my  sis- 
ter will  not  hear  of  it.  I  confess  I  did  not  tell  her  of 
the  invitation." 

"May  I  ask  why?" 

"  She  would  have  been  so  anxious  to  go." 

"You  mystify  me.  I  should  suppose  that  to  be  the 
very  reason  for  telling  her." 

"I  do  not  know  that  I  can  explain  to  you,  Mr. 
Exton,"  said  Kate,  seriously;  "but  it  is  not  best  for  us 
to  go  into  society.  It  is  not  pleasant  to  take  all  and 
give  nothing,  for  one  thing ;  and  then  there  are  myriad 
other  reasons,"  she  finished,  abruptly. 

"Would  you  mind  giving  a  few?  I  am  curious  to 
see  if  they  are  all  as  feeble  as  the  first." 

"Why  is  the  first  feeble?" 

"  You  might  accuse  me  unjustly  of  flattery  if  I 
endeavored  to  convince  you." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  good  opinion  of  us.  Then  we 
will  not  discuss  that.  If  you  care  to  hear  another 
reason,  this  is  one,  —  it  will  be  difficult  for  you  to 
appreciate  the  force  of  it,  perhaps,  but  it  is  a  weighty 
one,  —  people  who  have  time  and  money  to  move  in 


198  NEXT  DOOR. 

society  have  similar  interests  and  ways.  There  are 
ten  thousand  little  customs  by  which  they  recognize 
one  another,  and  — " 

"And  sometimes  become  fatally  tired  of  one  another 
before  the  season  is  over,"  interrupted  her  amused 
listener. 

"  Perhaps.  You  are  smiling,  Mr.  Exton ;  but  it  is  a 
serious  matter  to  a  novice  to  try  to  appear  at  ease  in 
your  world." 

"Please  do  not  impute  it  to  me.  I  have  no  ambi- 
tion Atlasward." 

"  I  have  felt  my  awkwardness,  on  a  few  occasions, 
and  Madam,  —  and  others  have  warned  me  of  the  folly 
of  attempting  to  serve  two  masters." 

"Oh,  it  comes  to  that,  does  it?" 

"Exactly."  Kate  breathed  with  a  quickness  not 
induced  by  her  brisk  exercise.  "  A  professional  woman 
needs  to  save  her  strength  for  her  work.  Mrs.  Lang- 
don  is  a  pupil  of  Madam  Sevrance ;  and  when  she 
came  so  kindly  to  call  on  me,  and  invite  me  to  her 
bouse,  I  knew  Madam  Sevrance  was  concerned  in  it, 
directly  or  indirectly ;  and  I  knew  there  would  be  no 
use  in  our  accepting." 

"No  pupils  to  be  obtained  at  a  dance,  I  suppose?" 
suggested  her  companion,  as  she  hesitated.  His 
comments,  whenever  he  touched  upon  this  subject, 
although  savoring  of  ridicule,  were  too  gentle  t6 
convey  any  offence.  "  By  the  way,  how  is  the  pro- 
fession coming  on  ?  " 

"Very  well,  indeed,  thank  you.     Madam  Sevranct 


KATE   ACCEPTS   ADVICE.  199 

has  most  kindly  given  me  the  use  of  her  room  one 
half  day  each  week;  so,  you  see,  I  enjoy  brief  inter- 
vals of  feeling  very  important." 

"And  older  than  ever,  I  presume." 

"Oh,  yes.  I  find  it  quite  easy  to  invest  myself  with 
white  hair,  dressed  d,  la  Pompadour,  and  snapping 
black  eyes." 

"Do  you  notice  that  you  create  an  extra  impression 
*pon  your  pupils  ?  " 

Kate  laughed.  "  I  am  afraid  my  imagination  does 
not  soar  to  that  height." 

"May  I  ask  what  excuse  you  offered  to  Mrs.  Lang- 
don  for  your  refusal  of  her  invitation  ?  Your  theories 
are  somewhat  novel  to  me.  I  am  curious  to  know  how 
you  carry  them  out." 

"  Oh,  it  was  a  simple  enough  matter  in  this  case.  I 
knew  she  had  only  asked  us  to  please  Madam  Wev- 
ranee,  and  I  told  her  it  would  not  be  convenient  for  us 
to  accept." 

"  I  imagined  you  allowed  yourself  to  be  guided  by 
the  Madam." 

"  I  do,  mainly.  She  taught  me  some  sensible  ideas 
on  the  subject  of  girls,  like  my  sister  and  myself,  un- 
dertaking the  burdens  of  society  while  we  had  other 
burdens  to  carry.  Of  late  she  has  seemed  to  recant ; 
but  I  cannot  follow  her  blindly.  I  saw  her  former 
course  plainly,  and  recognized  its  sense;  and  I  shall 
depart  from  it  cautiously." 

"Heavens!"  thought  Exton.  "How  ray  rnothel 
vould  admire  thatl" 


200  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  Should  you,"  he  asked  aloud,  after  a  moment  of 
silence,  "  consider  it  very  presumptuous  in  me  to  hold 
ideas  on  the  subject?" 

The  lovely  pale  pink  brought  into  Kate's  cheeks  by 
the  bright  air,  deepened  at  this.  She  raised  her  eyea 
to  his  and  smiled.  "  Not  to  hold  them,  certainly,"  she 
said.  "  But  I  could  not  conscientiously  urge  you  to 
unfold  them,  for  I  cannot  conceive  of  their  being  worth 
anything." 

Mr.  Exton  laughed.  "  You  are  very  discouraging," 
he  answered.  "Fortunately  for  me,  it  runs  in  the 
Exton  family  not  to  be  easily  rebuffed.  May  I  unfold 
them  at  my  own  risk  ?  " 

"You  may.  I  shall  take  a  certain  interest  in  listen- 
ing to  the  views  on  such  a  subject  of  one  whose  silver 
spoon  has  never  been  snatched  from  his  mouth." 

"  As  to  your  going  into  society,  I  do  not  presume  to 
have  an  opinion,"  returned  Exton,  rather  hurriedly; 
"  but,  as  Madam  Sevrance  is  a  shrewd  woman  of  busi- 
ness, if  she  urges  you  to  go,  it  is  probably  with  an  ul- 
terior financial  object.  What  I  had  to  say,  —  and  the 
nearer  I  get  to  it,  the  more  appalling  it  becomes  to 
have  to  say  it,  —  perhaps,  after  all,  I  had  better  re- 
treat. Discretion  is  the  better  part  of  valor." 

"  But  retreat  is  impossible,"  exclaimed  Kate.  "  My 
curiosity  is  aroused."  Her  heart  beat  fast  as  she 
spoke,  for  her  pride  took  fright.  Was  he  going  to 
criticise  her  singing? 

"  Well,  then,  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  watch 
Vig  you  sometimes,  Miss  Standish,  and  it  has  oo 


KATE  ACCEPTS  ADVICE.  201 

curred  to  me  to  regret  that  your  manner  was  not 
more  affable." 

"  Affable !   My  manner ! "  exclaimed  the  girl,  amazed. 

"Yes,  at  the  church;  among  the  people.  I  have 
heard  occasional  criticisms  and  complaints  which 
might  easily  be  avoided  if  you  were  more  willing 
to  meet  advances  half  Avay.  I  have  remarked 
myself  that  you  are  apt  either  to  be  cold  or  on  the 
defensive." 

Kate  blushed.  "  Is  it  really  so  ?  "  she  said,  humbly. 
"  What  a  miserable  attitude  for  a  woman  who  wants 
to  be  liked  1" 

"Very,"  assented  the  other,  looking  down  on  her 
earnest  beauty. 

"  Then  the  people  in  the  church  do  not  like  me,"  she 
continued,  with  quick  comprehension. 

"Some  of  them  do;  an  occasional  one  does  —  ex- 
tremely." 

"You  saw  me  at  Mrs.  Farrar's,"  she  went  on,  look- 
ing up  anxiously,  and  causing  her  companion  hastily  to 
avert  his  gaze  ;  "didn't  I  do  better  there?" 

"You  did,  indeed.  I  should  suppose  you  would 
have  felt  your  power  pleasantly  enough  to  make  you 
resolve  to  use  it  always." 

"I  do  not  think  I  am  naturally  disagreeable,"  she 
continued,  with  a  little,  meditative  frown. 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  returned  Exton,  devoutly. 

"On  the  defensive!  Oh  I  am  ashamed  that  i< 
ihould  have  struck  you  so,  a  stranger !  " 

a  Not  a  stranger  any  longer,  please  remember," 


202  NEXT  DOOR. 

"  Mr.  Exton,"  Kate  looked  up  from  her  unpleasant 
reverie,  "  I  do  so  wish  you  would  tell  me  something." 

"  Then  I  shall  if  I  can,  of  course." 

"I  want  very  much  to  know  who  it  is  who  is  paying 
a  part  of  my  salary  at  church." 

"Do  I  understand  you?"  Mr.  Exton  frowned  med- 
itatively. 

"You  must.  Being  on  the  music  committee,  you 
must  know  who  the  gentleman  is." 

"  You  are  mistaken.  It  is  as  much  of  a  mystery  to 
nearly  all  the  committee  as  it  is  to  you." 

Kate  sighed.  "I  am  disappointed.  I  hoped  you 
could  and  would  tell  me.  I  find  it  annoys  me  not  to 
know.  As  soon  as  I  learned  about  it  I  tried  to  put 
it  out  of  my  mind.  I  resolved  never  to  think  of  it 
again ;  but  it  is  of  no  use ;  I  cannot  help  speculating 
about  it.  I  find  myself  on  Sunday  gazing  over  the 
congregation  in  search  of  my  benefactor.  If  I  happen 
to  catch  the  eye  of  a  benevolent  looking  old  gentle- 
man, I  grow  warm  all  over.  If  I  have  a  solo  I  am 
wondering  all  through  it  whether  I  am  satisfying  him. 
I,"  —  Kate  laughed  nervously,  "I  constantly  suspect 
him  of  regretting  his  bargain.  Before  any  discussion 
came  up  about  me  I  never  had  any  such  feelings.  I 
suppose  because  I  was  inexperienced  it  never  occurred 
to  me,  so  long  as  Madam  Sevrance  was  pleased,  to 
disturb  myself  about  any  one  else's  opinion." 

*'  I  am  sorry  you  were  told  of  it,"  returned  her  com 
panion.  "Ray  was  a  little  officious  on  that  occasion, 
although  without  doubt  his  motives  were  generous." 


KATE  ACCEPTS   ADVICE. 

**I  am  sure  they  were,"  said  Kate,  lowering  her  lids 
over  her  flashing  eyes.  She  congratulated  herself  on 
the  dispassionateness  with  which  she  was  able  to 
iliscuss  this  matter  with  one  of  those  who  had  been 
the  cause  of  her  trouble.  "I  hope  you  do  not  sup- 
pose, Mr.  Exton,  that  I  deny  the  committee's  right  to 
please  themselves,  only  sometimes  I  wish  that  my 
unknown  benefactor  had  not  put  me  under  so  heavy 
an  obligation." 

They  walked  on  for  half  a  minute  in  silence,  then 
Mr.  Exton  spoke.  "Since  the  matter  is  distressing 
you,  Miss  Standish,  I  think  I  may  risk  committing  a 
breach  of  confidence  so  far  as  to  admit  that  I  know 
the  man  who  is  indulging  himself  in  your  voice." 

"Ah,  then,  you  will  tell  me  who  he  is?" 

"  I  can't  do  that,  it  wouldn't  be  right ;  but  I  can 
allay  your  fears  with  regard  to  his  satisfaction.  He  is 
a  sincere  person,  and  he  looked  me  squarely  in  ths 
eyes  a  few  days  since,  and  said  he,  speaking  of  this 
matter,  '  I  never  made  so  satisfactory  an  investment 
in  my  life.  Miss  Standish's  voice  grows  better  and 
better.  Her  singing  is  dearer  and  dearer  to  me  as 
every  week  passes  by.  I  should  like  to  engage  her  tc 
King  to  me  daily,  but  as  that  cannot  be  I  make  the 
most  of  this.* " 

Kate  looked  up  with  wide,  delighted  eyes,  and  met 
Ihe  speaker's  earnest,  flushed  face. 

"  Did  he  really  say  all  that  ?  "  she  asked,  slowly. 

"Every  word  of  it  and  more  too.     Shall  I  go  on?" 

**Oh,  110,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  little  laugh.    "Aunt 


204  NEXT  DOOR. 

Ann  says,  *  praise  to  the  face  is  open  disgrace.'  Th?< 
is  a  plenty  for  one  day.  It  relieves  me  so  much.  Ha 
is  —  is  he — I  suppose  he  is  a  nice  man?"  she  asked, 
a  little  doubtfully. 

"  Oh  —  a  —  oh,  yes.  My  mother  thinks  very  highly 
of  him,"  replied  Exton,  gravely. 

"  Ah,  that  is  all  right  then,"  said  Kate,  in  a  relieved 
tone.  "I  may  take  his  money  and  his  compliments 
gratefully.  Why,  you  have  walked  quite  home  with 
me,  Mr.  Exton,  and  there  is  Margery  in  the  window. 
She  is  always  at  home  before  me." 

Mr.  Exton  lifted  his  hat  to  the  bright  face  in  the 
parlor  window,  and  lingered  a  minute. 

"  You  will  remember  the  warning  about  my  mother, 
Miss  Standish?" 

"Yes,  although  I  feel  sure  it  is  useless,  and  you, 
Mr.  Exton,  please  do  not  tell  my  unknown  friend  of 
my  inquisitiveness." 

She  looked  very  handsome  and  happy  as  she  made 
her  request,  and  she  read  it  in  his  eyes  as  he  answered 
her. 

"I  give  you  my  word  he  shall  know  nothing  of  ft 
unless  you  tell  him  yourself." 

**  Good-bye,  then,"  she  said,  with  sudden  haste. 

"Good  morning." 


CHAITER  XIX. 

MAKGERY  RECEIVES. 

MAKGEKY  met  her  sister  at  the  door,  or  rather  she 
lay  in  wait  behind  it  until  Kate  should  have  come  in, 
fearing  lest  Mr.  Exton  might  catch  sight  of  the  indeco- 
rous eagerness  in  her  face. 

"How  did  he  happen  to,  Kate?"  she  burst  forth. 

**  Mercy !  You  frightened  me,  child.  What  do  you 
mean  by  bounding  out  upon  people  like  a  jack-in-the- 
box?" 

"  Come  into  the  parlor,"  gaid  Margery.  "  There  is 
no  one  there,  and  it  is  no  use  to  go  up  stairs  before 
dinner.  There  is  a  box  for  you." 

"  Not  another  florist's  box  ?" 

"  The  same.  Mrs.  Brown  says  it  came  fifteen  mh> 
Utes  after  you  had  started  for  church." 

"  Margery !    Oh,  dear  I " 

"  Cheer  up,  cheer  up,  sweet  one,"  gaid  Margery, 
gushingly.  "  Shall  I  open  it  for  you?" 

"  No,  I  thank  you."  Kate  sat  down  and  untied  the 
box,  taking  from  it  a  large  bunch  of  English  violets. 

Margery  seated  herself  and  stared  at  them  while 
Kate  inhaled  their  fragrance  with  reluctant  lovingness. 
205 


206  NEXT  DOOR. 

"That,  is  the  fourth,"  said  Margery,  oracularly. 
u  One  for  Mrs.  Farrar's ;  one  last  Sunday,  which  you 
wore  to  church;  one  Friday  —  for  no  reason  whatever," 
here  Kate  blushed  guiltily;  "  one  this  morning,  for  you 
to  wear  to  church,  only  they  came  too  late." 

"It  is  dreadful,"  said  Kate,  laying  the  flowers  dowa 
"It  is  not  pleasant  to  be  haunted  by  anything,  not 
even  violets." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  make  you  feel  criminal," 
said  Margery,  coolly,  "to  think  how  much  you  are 
costing  somebody." 

"Dorft  mention  that  side  of  it,  Margery,"  begged 
the  other.  "  Mr.  Exton  said  that  flowers  should  always 
be  anonymous.  I  think  they  should  also  not  cost  any- 
thing." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Exton  said  that.    Perhaps  he  sends  them." 

Kate  raised  her  eyebrows.  "Perhaps  he  does,  or 
else  it  is  the  Shah  of  Persia.  This  isn't  a  very  deep 
mystery  to  me,  Margie.  I  teach  two  or  three  girls 
who  affect  to  worship  me,  either  of  whom  is  able  to 
indulge  in  this  safety  valve  for  her  affection.  It 
would  be  a  bore  to  find  out  her  secret  and  to  be 
obliged  to  be  grateful;  but  I  love  the  violets.  The 
freak  won't  last  long." 

"  Or  her  pocket  money,  either,"  suggested  Margery. 

"Here,  dear,"  and  Kate  divided  the  flowers,  "  fasten 
half  of  these  in  your  dress." 

"Not  one  wretched  little  blue  flower,"  returned  the 
other  firmly.  "My  feelings  are  injured  to  think  the 
Jacqueminots  have  never  been  repeated." 


MARGERY   RECEIVES.  207 

"Margery,"  and  Kate  looked  meditatively  at  he* 
rister,  resting  her  elbow  in  her  hand  and  softly  touch- 
ing  her  chin  with  her  bouquet,  "  I  am  ashamed  of  my- 
self." 

"  I'm  delighted,"  said  the  other,  promptly.  "  Is  it 
because  you  let  Mr.  Exton  walk  home  with  you  ?  It 
is  a  wonder  he  arrived  here  without  being  frozen." 

«  Oh,  it  is  not  so  cold." 

"  No,  but  you  are." 

"  I  shall  never  be  again,  Margery.  Henceforth  I  am 
going  through  life  bowing  and  smiling  like  —  like — " 

"Like  a  happy  combination  of  a  Mandarin  and 
Cheshire  cat,"  suggested  Margery,  kindly.  "  I  ana 
delighted  again.  What  has  transformed  you?" 

"  Why,  Mr.  Exton.     He  has  —  has  noticed  it." 

"Noticed  what?" 

"  Why,  how  disagreeable  I  am." 

"  And  told  you  so  ?    How  invigorating ! " 

"  He  did  it  very  nicely,"  said  Kate,  with  dignity. 

"  Just  so  he  did  it  convincingly,  I  do  not  care  how 
he  managed  it." 

"Why,  Margery,"  Kate  looked  up  ruefully,  "I'm 
nice  to  yow,  dear." 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  other,  grimly,  "  especially 
when  you  underhandedly  refuse  invitations  to  dancing 
parties." 

"My  dear  girl!  That  is  exactly  what  I  am  ashamed 
of.  How  did  you  find  out?  I  was  just  going  to  tell 
you  this  minute." 

uMr.  Ingalls  told  me.     I  met  him  at  the  door  as  I 


208  NEXT   DOOE. 

was  going  to  church.  He  wished  to  go  with  me,  but  I 
would  not  allow  it.  I  am  faithful  to  you.  After  call« 
ing  me  your  partner  and  all!  Oh,  Kate,  I  am  sun 
prised  1 " 

"Margery,  it  looks  hideous  to  me  now.  Let  me 
tell  you  how  it  happened." 

"Oh,  happened!'1''  repeated  Margery,  cruelly. 

"  She  came  —  Mrs.  Langdon  came  —  one  day  when 
you  were  out,  and  asked  us  —  merely  from  politeness 
to  Madam  Sevrance,  merely  for  that,  Margery  —  " 

"  What  do  I  care  for  her  motive,  if  her  floor  and 
music  were  good  ?  " 

"You  weren't  here  to  consult  with.  I  knew  w« 
should  ruin  the  only  fine  dresses  we  had.  I  knew  I 
had  no  right  to  fatigue  myself,  and  you  could  not  go 
without  me.  After  I  had  refused  and  she  had  gone,  I 
asked  myself  why  I  need  trouble  you  with  vain  re- 
grets; voild,  tout!  But  it  was  a  mistake.  I  will  not 
do  it  again.  You  should  have  been  told." 

"  And  I  should  have  gone,"  said  Margery,  muti- 
nously. "I  know  Ray  Ingalls  dances  like  an  arch- 
angel. He  wished  so  much  that  I  had  been  there." 

"  It  would  be  delightful  to  dance  again,  Margery," 
said  Kate,  looking  straight  over  her  sister's  head,  and 
speaking  musingly. 

"  Oh,  you  are  human,  then  ?  " 

"Very  human.  I  think  sometimes  of  how  it  would 
have  been  had  mother  and  father  lived,  and  the  money 
Hot  slipped  away.  How  beautiful  the  old  house  was !  *' 

"  Yea.    It  would  have  been  a  good  hous*  to  entep 


MAKGERY  EECEIVES.  209 

tain  in.  It  is  a  pity  we  were  not  old  enough  to  appre- 
ciate it.  I  should  like  to  give  a  party  in  a  gorgeous 
house ;  but  of  course  I  should  not  offend  your  princi- 
ples by  inviting  you." 

"  Ah,"  Kate  laughed,  "  that  will  be  after  you  have 
married  the  rich  man.  Shall  you  recognize  me  in 
those  days,  Margery?" 

But  Mrs.  Brown's  sharped-tongued  little  dinner-bell 
interrupted  the  castle-building. 

"  Only  say  you  forgive  me,  dear,"  urged  Kate. 

"  If  I  do,  it  is  for  the  last  time,"  said  Margery,  stiffly. 

"Of  course  you  will  never  be  called  upon  again. 
Did  I  not  tell  you  I  had  erred  for  the  last  time?" 

"For  this  once,  then,"  returned  Margery, graciously. 
"  You  must  tell  me  after  dinner  how  His  Serene  High-, 
ness  happened  to  escort  you  home;  and,  by  the  way, 
Kate,  Aunt  Ann  told  me  this  morning  that  Mr.  Wiley 
would  be  delighted  to  have  me  practise  on  his  piano." 

"  I  hope  she  did  not  ask  the  favor." 

"No.  He  inquired  whether  we  played  and  she  said 
I  did,  and  then  he  offered.  I  mean  to  take  advantage 
of  it." 

"  Do  you  ?  "  Kate's  tone  was  doubtful,  but  her  faith 
in  herself  had  been  shaken.  She  was  meeker  than 
Margery  had  expected. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  latter,  firmly.  "I  shall  begin  to- 
morrow." 

On  the  Wednesday  thereafter,  when  Kate  returned 
from  her  round  of  lessons,  she  found  Margery  with 
every  indication  of  news  in  he:  expressive  face. 


210  NEXT   DOOR. 

"Good,"  said  Kate,  "you  have  something  amusing 
to  tell  me.  Nothing  has  gone  right  to-day.  I  shall 
be  grateful  for  a  laugh." 

"  Well,  nothing  has  gone  right  here  either,"  replied 
Margery,  taking  her  sister's  hat  and  cloak,  and  brim- 
ming over  with  a  little  chuckle  of  merriment.  "I 
was  sitting  in  the  front  window  this  afternoon  when 
I  noticed  an  elegant  carriage  pass.  The  horses  shone 
so  like  satin,  the  harness  was  so  fine,  and  the  driver  so 
scrupulously  correct,  that  I  heaved  an  awful  sigh  of 
envy  as  it  passed.  I  was  darning  stockings,  and  I  had 
scarcely  turned  my  head  back  and  begun  on  a  new  hole 
when  lo  and  behold  there  was  a  sound  in  the  street,  1 
looked  out,  and  there  was  the  carriage  again.  Imagine 
my  surprise  when  it  stopped  in  front  of  this  house. 
I  drew  back  from  the  window,  heard  the  bell  ring,  and 
in  a  minute  up  came  Betty  with  a  card  for  me.  I 
seized  it  and  read  'Mrs.  John  Exton.'  Judge  of  my 
state  of  mind.  I  nearly  fainted  away.  My  first 
thought  was  that  he  had  married,  and  his  bride  was 
down  stairs ! " 

"  Sensible,"  remarked  Kate,  as  Margery  made  a  dra- 
matic pause. 

"  Very.  I  questioned  Betty  in  the  most  wild-eyed 
manner  as  to  the  lady's  personal  appearance,  and  when 
I  learned  she  had  white  hair  I  plucked  up  courage  and 
went  down  stairs.  Kate  Stand  ish,  I  suffered  as  much 
in  the  next  five  minutes  as  I  ever  did  in  my  life.  The 
parlor  was  being  swept !  Betty  had  seated  that  ele- 
gant old  lady  in  one  of  those  nightmarish  old  rep 


MARGERY   RECEIVES.  211 

chairs  close  by  the  parlor  floor  where  she  had  the  full 
benefit  of  the  turnips  that  were  being  cooked  for 
dinner.  There  was  a  melee  of  old  furniture  pressing 
upon  her  from  behind  —  " 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Kate,  goaded  beyond  endurance, 

"I  wished  I  was  in   the  cellar!      I   wished  I  was 

on  the  top  of  the  house !     I  wished  I  was  dead  and. 

buried !     But  there  I  was,  very  much  alive  and  blush- 

ino-  all  over,  face  to  face  with  Mrs.  Exton.    She  looked 

~  ' 

nearly  as  uncomfortable  as  I  did ;  and  when  she  saw 
me,  I  knew  instantly  that  she  had  expected  to  see  you 
instead. 

"She  bowed,  and  half  rose.  'I  —  excuse  me,  I 
wished  to  see  Miss  Standish,'  she  said. 

"  '  My  sister  is  out,'  I  replied.  '  I  am  sorry.  I  am 
also  very  sorry  that  you  should  have  been  received 
here  so  uncomfortably.' 

" '  It  is  no  matter,'  she  said,  rising.  '  I  should 
be  glad  to  have  your  sister  call  upon  me  if  she 
can  make  it  convenient.  What  is  her  first  disengaged 
day?' 

"  '  Saturday,'  said  I. 

'"Very  well,  I  shall  hope  to  see  her  then.  Good 
afternoon,'  and  with  that  she  went.  There,"  and 
Margery  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  challenged  her 
sister's  amazement. 

"  Oh,  Margery ! "  said  Kate,  her  face  flushed  with 
annoyance. 

"You  should  have  seen  her  clothes,"  observed  Mar- 
gery,  with  the  calmness  of  despair,  "  and  her  eyes,  hei 


212  NEXT  DOOR. 

Bon's  eyes,  trying  not  to  see  our  shabbiness;  and  hei 
nose,  John  Exton's  nose,  smelling  our  turnips!  " 

"  Margery,"  said  Kate,  earnestly,  clasping  her  hands 
tightly  in  her  lap,  "here  is  a  moral.  I  would  not  have 
you  miss  it  for  anything.  This  will  surely  bring  you 
to  agree  with  me.  Had  we  not  gone  to  Mrs.  Farrar's. 
Mrs.  Exton  would  never  have  disturbed  our  peace 
of  mind.  I  am  not  ashamed  of  the  way  we  must 
live." 

"  Oh,  no,"  exclaimed  Margery,  derisively. 

"But  I  do  not  care  to  have  it  sharply  contrasted 
with  other  ways  of  living.  You  see  for  us  to  strain 
every  nerve  and  manage  to  make  good  figures  in  soci- 
ety, only  makes  us  a  sort  of  impostors.  How  could 
Mrs.  Exton  imagine  from  my  appearance  at  Mrs.  Far- 
rar's that  she  should  find  me  situated  this  way?  It  is 
mortifying,"  and  Kate  rose  and  crossed  to  her  bureau 
with  a  repressed,  restless  air,  and  a  glowing  face. 

"  Shall  you  go  to  see  her  Saturday  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  What  do  you  suppose  she  wants  of  you  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  able  to  enlighten  you  Saturday  even 
Ing." 

"  It  can't  be  teaching.  Mr.  Ingalls'  mother  was  her 
only  daughter.  Perhaps  it  is  something  about  John," 
added  Margery,  irrepressibly. 

Kate's  delicate  lip  curled.  "  Couldn't  you  call  him 
Jack?"  she  suggested.  "We  are  such  hail  fellows 
well  met  with  the  whole  family,  it  is  foolish  to  stand 
»n  ceremony." 


MAKGERY  RECEIVES.  213 

"There  is  Aunt  Ann,  I  know  her  step,"  cried  Mar- 
gery, unabashed,  running  to  open  the  door  for  the  new- 
comer who  brought  an  atmosphere  of  bright  content 
with  her. 

"I  just  ran  in  for  a  few  minutes,"  said  the  latter, 
cheerily.  "Ray  has  gone  out  of  course,  and  Mr. 
Sharp  and  Mr.  Wiley,  too.  Mr.  Herring  is  reading 
there  by  the  grate  fire,  and  I  thought,  as  long  as  Kits 
was  willing  to  keep  him  company,  I'd  just  come  in  for 
a  cosey  chat.  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  girls?  You 
look  as  if  you  might  have  been  spatting." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Margery,  virtuously,  "  Kate  had  just 
spatted  me  once  when  you  came  in.  She  is  sorry  for 
it  now.  That  is  what  makes  her  look  so  sober." 

Kate  turned  with  a  smile  to  her  aunt.  "  Sit  down. 
We  are  always  glad  of  your  visits.  Margery  and  I 
have  been  pin-pricked  to-day,  and  we  are  smarting  a 
little.  Tell  her  about  it,  Margie." 

Aunt  Ann  listened  to  the  tale  and  laughed  in  a 
heartily  amused  fashion  that  in  itself  did  them  both 
good.  "You  aren't  going  to  make  a  trial  out  of 
that  ?  "  she  said. 

"Why,  we  were  considering  it  seriously,"  replied 
Margery. 

"I  never  would,"  said  Aunt  Ann.  "Mrs.  Extcn 
Would  probably  be  sorry  to  think  you  lived  with  folks 
that  never  swept.  The  old  lady  must  have  senst> 
enough  to  make  allowances.  I'm  sure  she  has." 

"But  the  turnips,"  groaned  Kate.  "They  were 
Hreadful  when  I  came  in." 


214  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  There's  nothing  wicked  about  turnips,  I  hope,"  said 
Aunt  Ann,  mildly. 

"  Oh,  if  you  are  going  to  judge  everything  by  that 
standard ,"  observed  Margery. 

"  I  don't  know  a  better  one." 

"Well,  it  is  wicked  to  be  an  impostor,"  said  Kate. 
"That  is  what  Margery  and  I  are  if  we  affect  in  soci- 
ety to  live  nicely." 

"  One  thing  is,"  said  Margery,  hopefully,  "  whatever 
Mrs.  Exton  came  for,  she  was  not  discouraged  by  our 
surroundings.  She  might  easily  have  gone  away  with- 
out leaving  any  message." 

%<  You  foolish  girl,  why  should  that  please  you?" 
asked  Kate,  scornfully. 

"  What  does  she  want  of  you,  dearie  ?  "  asked  Aunt 
Ann. 

Kate  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  do  not  know.  I 
suppose  she  wishes  me  to  sing  for  some  charity.  It 
will  be  something  of  that  kind." 

"Or  else  she  will  order  you  never  to  allow  her  son 
to  walk  home  from  church  with  you  again,"  said  Mar- 
gery, mischievously.  "  You  are  in  great  danger,  ac- 
cording to  Madam  Sevrance." 

"  I  am  in  no  danger  according  to  Madam  Sevrance," 
returned  Kate,  coldly.  "  I  am  in  the  class  below  criti- 
cism." 

"How  is  that,  Kate?"   asked  Aunt  Ann. 

"Madam  Sevrance  says  Mrs.  Exton  is  very  jealous 
\>f  her  son.  She  does  not  like  him  to  be  attentive  to 
ladies,  although  she  does  not  worry  about  girls  lik« 


MARGERY   RECEIVES.  215 

Afargery  and  me.  Of  course  he  very  seldom  meets 
with  such ;  but  as  circumstances  would  have  it,  he  has 
met  us,  and  Madam  Sevrance  evidently  thought  we 
needed  a  warning." 

It  cost  Kate  something  to  make  this  statement,,  but 
she  was  in  a  mood  to  be  unsparing  of  herself.  A 
glow  of  surprise  and  righteous  indignation  mounted 
slowly  over  Aunt  Ann's  face.  Margery  laughed  out- 
right at  its  expression. 

"  Count  ten,  Aunt  Ann,"  she  cried,  warning! y. 

"The  impudent  critter!"  exclaimed  Miss  Eaton. 
"How  did  she  dare  speak  so  to  my  girls!  I  like  Mr. 
Exton ;  he's  a  good  honest  feller ;  but  as  to  his  being 
too  good  for  either  of  you,  why  it's  —  it's  a  lie." 

"Hear,  hear!"   cried  Margery. 

"I  should  like  to  know  what  the  woman  means," 
continued  Aunt  Ann,  much  ruffled.  "Beautifully 
brought  up,  beautifully  educated,  beautifully  behaved 
girls !  Why  I  —  pooh !  I'd  like  to  see  —  H'm  ! "  Aunt 
Ann  wandered  off  into  incoherent  mumblings. 

Kate  smiled,  and  took  the  speaker's  hand  in  both  of 
hers.  "Madam  Sevrance  thinks  only  too  highly  of  us 
• — of  me  at  least.  I  could  tell  you  ever  so  many  rea- 
sons for  her  belief,  only  it  is  not  worth  the  exertion, 
and  probably  I  should  not  convince  you  after  all." 

"Why,  you  don't  suppose  Uncle  John  thinks  that 
Way?"  asked  Aunt  Ann,  excitedly. 

"That  he  is  too  good  for  us?  Oh,  no,  he  probably 
floes  not  say  it  to  himself  in  so  many  words,"  replied 
Kate. 


216  NEXT   DOOR. 

"Well,  do  you  think  he  wouldn't  marry  you?"  pui 
lued  Aunt  Ann,  with  unabated  earnestness. 

"Mercy!  Aunt  Ann,  don't  talk  so  loud ! "  exclaimed 
Margery,  softly.  "Somebody  will  hear  you.  We 
can't  find  out,  you  know,  because  it  is  not  leap  year;  so 
do  not  get  so  excited." 

Aunt  Ann  seized  her  younger  niece  by  the  wrist. 
"You  used  to  talk  a  string  of  nonsense  about  him," 
she  said,  as  sternly  as  she  was  able.  "  Now  I  don't  be- 
lieve, Margery  Standish,  that  you  care  for  that  man." 

"  Then  you  are  very  much  mistaken,"  said  Margery, 
obstinately. 

"  Margery,"  said  her  aunt,  "  it  isn't  right  for  you  to 
have  any  secrets  from  Kate  and  me." 

"  I  do  not  make  much  of  a  secret  of  it,  I'm  sure," 
returned  the  girl,  raising  her  eyebrows. 

"  Can't  you  see,  Aunt  Ann,"  said  Kate,  impatiently, 
"she  would  like  to  mislead  us  both." 

"It  is  not  a  matter  to  joke  on,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  sol- 
emnly.  "I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  Margery,  if  you 
think  it  is.  This  matter  of  love  is  the  greatest,  most 
sacred  subject  in  the  world.  Everything  else  circles 
around  it,  depends  upon  it.  Let  anybody  pick  up  a 
story  paper  or  a  book.  If  his  eye  falls  on  a  love  pas- 
Bage,  won't  he  feel  a  sudden  interest  in  it  ?  No  matter 
bow  wise  the  reader  may  be,  and  how  poor  the  story, 
it  will  hold  the  attention  as  long  as  it  deals  with  that 
topic.  It  is  the  tremendous  strength  of  the  subjec' 
that  folks  feel  without  understanding  it  half  the  time 
The  old,  old  story.  Yes,  I  should  think  so :  old  as  the 


MARGERY  RECEIVES.  217 

tvorld,  and  yet  always  new.  Too  many  approach  it  in 
R  joking  way.  Young  folks  are  apt  to  think  it's  smart 
to  make  fun  of  it  and  sham  indifference  to  it.  If  the 
time  never  comes  when  they  feel  otherwise,  they  are 
unfortunate  indeed.  Some  folks  with  the  best  inten- 
tions make  a  mistake  in.  their  love  affairs.  I  did.  But 
the  worst  mistake  of  all  is  to  cultivate  a  joking,  frivo- 
lous feeling  about  marriage.  Don't  let  me  hear  you 
do  it.  It's  wicked  and  it  worries  me." 

Kate  kept  her  eyes  down  and  patted  the  hand  she 
held;  Margery  looked  up,  quite  meek  and  a  little 
frightened. 

"I  do  not  love  Mr.  Exton  at  all,"  she  said,  gently. 

Aunt  Ann  kissed  her  cheek.  "I  thought  so.  Be 
careful  that  you  never  do,  seeing  lie  is  such  an  extraor- 
dinary mortal.  No  one  will  ever  persuade  me  tLat 
he  thinks  so  much  of  himself.  He's  too  really  fine  to 
feel  so." 

"He  is,  Aunt  Ann,"  said  Kate,  quietly.  "H*-  is 
really  fine." 


A  BUSINESS  OFFER. 

WHEN  Saturday  arrived,  to  the  girls'  infinite  dift 
gust,  a  mixture  of  snow  and  rain  descended,  and  the 
slushy  streets  and  gray  sky  were  of  a  similar  color. 

"There  goes  my  last  opportunity  of  making  a  re- 
spectable impression,"  said  Kate,  looking  out  of  the 
window,  dismally.  "I  must  take  a  veil,  overshoes,, 
umbrella,  and  waterproof  into  Beacon  Street.  I  shall 
remind  Mrs.  Exton  of  our  dwelling ;  but  I  don't  care," 
turning  suddenly  on  Margery,  with  her  chin  uplifted. 
"  Did  you  suppose  I  did  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,"  replied  her  sister.  "  I  know  you  re- 
joice in  it,  Kate.  Couldn't  you  carry  a  turnip  in  each 
hand,  to  intensify  the  association.  It  would  be  so 
honest  and  above-board,  and  make  her  sure  we  hadn't 
moved.  I'm  getting  fearfully  tired  of  Mrs.  Brown's, 
Kate,"  continued  the  girl,  plaintively.  "Aunt  Ann  is 
such  a  perfect  cook.  It  fairly  makes  me  hungry  te 
think  of  her  table.  Why  can't  we  move  in  there  ?  " 

Margery  made  this  bold  demand  with  utter  hope, 
iessness;  but  as  soon  as  it  had  escaped  her  lips,  she  be- 
came sanguine.  "  Why,  truly,"  she  continued,  "  what 


A  BUSINESS   OFFER.  219 

real  reason  is  there  why  we  couldn't?  Don't  gentle, 
men  and  ladies  always  board  together?'1 

"  Yes,  in  a  boarding-house,"  said  Kate,  suavely. 

"Well?" 

"Well,  that  house  belongs  to  the  gentlemen  wlio 
are  living  in  it.  I  have  not  had  an  invitation  to  come 

O 

there." 

"Oh,  I  did  not  think  of  that,"  observed  Margery. 
"Kate,  it  is  an  awful  day,"  she  added,  as  the  window 
rattled.  "  Do  have  a  coupe,  for  once." 

"  No,  my  love,"  said  the  other,  lightly.  "  Is  it  eleven 
o'clock  yet?  I'm  going  at  eleven.  I  would  rather  go 
before  lunch,  as  it  is  a  business  call." 

"  Then  it  is  time.     I  will  get  your  things." 

Kate  enveloped  herself  in  her  waterproof,  and  Map. 
gery  adjusted  her  veil. 

"  It  is  very  fortunate  for  me  to-day  that  my  car- 
riage passes  the  door,"  said  the  former.  "  Now,  then, 
I'm  ready,"  and  Kate  gave  herself  one  comprehensive 
glance  in  the  mirror. 

"  And  you  do  not  look  like  an  impostor  at  all,  dear, 
thanks  to  the  weather,"  said  Margery,  soothingly. 

Arrived  at  the  number  on  Beacon  Street  designated 
by  Mrs.  Exton's  card,  Kate  was  shown  by  a  servant 
into  a  small  reception-room.  She  had  left  her  dripping 
umbrella  in  the  vestibule,  and  she  took  off  her  water- 
proof and  folded  it  wrong  side  out,  before  ventur- 
ing to  sit  down  in  one  of  the  richly  covered  chairs. 
There  was  a  pile  of  blazing  logs  in  the  fireplace,  and  i, 
large  vase  of  roses  on  the  mantel. 


220  NEXT   DOOR. 

This  is  his  home.  That  was  the  girl's  a 
thought.  She  tried  to  associate  John  Exton  with  the 
surroundings,  and  had  seated  him  in  every  available 
spot  in  the  room,  to  try  his  effect,  before  she  realized 
what  she  was  doing.  Then  she  started,  and  frowned 
out  of  the  window  at  the  drizzling  downfall,  as  seen 
between  the  curtains.  It  was  after  ten  minutes  of 
waiting  that  the  servant  returned  and  asked  her  if 
she  would  walk  up  stairs. 

She  followed  him  to  a  room,  the  door  of  which  stood 
open.  Another  open  fire,  more  flowers,  curtains  half 
drawn ;  Kate  had  time  only  to  notice  this,  when  Mrs. 
Exton  spoke. 

"  Walk  in,  Miss  Standish.  You  were  very  good  to 
come  in  spite  of  wind  and  weather.  Baker,  take  Miss 
Standish's  waterproof.  Sit  right  here  by  me,  please. 
This  is  one  of  the  days  when  I  must  keep  very  quiet." 

"Then,  perhaps,  it  is  not  convenient  for  you  to  see 
me.  I  can  easily  come  again."  Kate  came  close  to 
her  hostess,  who  was  lying  on  a  lounge,  propped  up 
with  pillows,  and  shook  the  offered  hand. 

"  No,  indeed,  sit  right  down.  Bodily  quiet  is  all  I 
need  to-day.  It  will  do  me  no  harm  to  talk  a  little, 
quietly.  The  weather  is  so  disagreeable  and  chilly, 
and  I  am  a  great  sufferer  from  atmospheric  changes. 
Close  the  door  after  you,  Baker." 

"  I  was  sorry  not  to  be  at  home  when  you  called," 
said  Kate,  taking  the  chair  indicated.  Somehow,  now 
that  she  was  face  to  face  with  Mrs.  Exton,  face  to  fsico 
»rith  the  luxuries  of  a  home  into  which  money  and 


A  BUSINESS   OFFER.  221 

taste  had  brought  every  possible  comfort  and  indul- 
gence, her  own  spirit  and  courage  rose.  The  memory 
of  Mrs.  Exton's  unfortunate  visit  seemed  less,  not 
more,  crushing  than  it  had  done.  This  poor  lady,  her 
face  white  and  her  forehead  wrinkled  with  fretting 
pain,  drew  out  her  tenderness  and  compassion,  instead 
of  exciting  her  awe.  It  was  not  half  so  dreadful  to 
live  in  a  house  sometimes  mismanaged  and  odorous, 
and  to  work  for  a  decent  living,  as  to  lie  here  and  suf- 
fer in  the  lap  of  luxury. 

"Yes,  1  regretted  it  also,"  rejoined  the  invalid,  "but 
I  somewhat  expected  not  to  find  you,  knowing  you  to 
be  occupied  away  from  home  a  part  of  the  time.  Have 
you  a  large  class?" 

"Not  very;  but  it  is  growing.  Madam  Sevrance 
encourages  me  to  believe  that  it  may  grow  as  lar,ge  aa 
I  can  manage.  If  you  know  her,  you  know  she  is  a 
stanch  friend.  Of  course  I  should  have  but  a  poor 
chance  without  her  influence." 

"  Yes,  I  know  her.  She  taught  my  daughter  a  short 
time  after  her  marriage.  She  was  but  little  known 
here  then,  and  my  husband  met  her  and  took  an  inter- 
est in  her.  I  think  she  is  a  very  conscientious 
Ionian." 

"  Oh,  thoroughly  so,"  replied  Kate,  warmly. 

"  So  she  must  believe  you  to  be  a  good  teacher, 
pise  she  wonld  not  recommend  you."  Mrs.  Exton 
talked  with  her  eyes  roving  to  and  from  her  visitor's 
face 

"Yes,"   replied   the   girl,    simply,   "she   has   take* 


222  NEXT  DOOR. 

great  pains  to  make  me  a  good  teacher,  and  I  hava 
studied  hard." 

"Do  you  like  the  work?" 

Kate  hesitated.  "Yes,"  she  said,  after  a  moment, 
"  probably  better  than  any  other  that  I  could  do." 

"  I  do  not  believe  you  like  it." 

"Why  should  you  think  that,  Mrs.  Exton  ?" 

"You  are  too  much  of  a  musician.  You  sing  too 
Well.  It  must  annoy  you  intolerably  to  meet  with 
stupidity  and  the  lack  of  all  musical  requisites  such  as 
exists  in  half  of  the  girls  who  cultivate  their  voices." 

"It  is  annoying,"  said  Kate,  simply.  "What  of 
that?  I  have  no  right  to  expect  an  easy  life." 

Mrs.  Exton  smiled.  "  That  is  the  right  spirit  in 
which  to  fight  the  world's  battles.  Nevertheless,  I 
have  a  proposition  to  make  to  you,  which  I  trust  you 
will  not  refuse.  It  cannot  fail,  I  think,  to  give  you  an 
easier  life  than  your  present  one.  I  want  you  to  come 
and  live  with  me.  You  look  surprised.  You  think  it 
is  a  sudden  request  coming  from  one  who  does  not 
know  you  well.  Your  face  is  enough  —  that  is,  your 
face  and  your  voice  together.  Dismiss  your  pupils, 
retain  your  position  in  church,  and  make  your  home 
with  rne.  I  dare  say  you  never  considered  the  subject 
of  living  as  companion  to  any  one,  but  you  are  exactly 
fitted  for  it.  You  speak  deliciously,  you  move  repose- 
fully,  you  sing  remarkably.  In  a  word,  my  heart  is 
Bet  upon  you  and  I  cannot  take  a  refusal.  I  will  pay 
you  adequately." 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Exton!"  exclaimed  Kate,  the  sou's  warn- 


A  BUSINESS   OFFER.  223 

ing  coming  back  upon  her  with  sudden  clearness.  "  1 
arn  sorry  to  disappoint  you  —  " 

"You  must  not  do  it,"  interrupted  the  old  lady.  "I 
told  you  my  heart  is  set  upon  it.  I  shall  overcome 
any  obstacle  you  choose  to  suggest." 

"You  do  not  understand,"  said  Kate,  gently.  "I 
am  so  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  disappoint  you,  but  I 
•aave  a  sister.  That  young  girl  you  met  when  you 
jame  to  see  me  is  ray  sister." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Exton,  curtly.  "  I  knew  you  had 
a  sister.  What  difference  need  that  make?  Your 
aunt,  I  never  can  remember  her  name,  Ray's  house- 
keeper, can  take  her." 

Kate  breathed  faster  and  her  color  rose.  "Would 
you  advise  that,  Mrs.  Exton?  Do  you  think  it  would 
be  well  for  my  sister'to  go  into  that  masculine  house- 
hold." 

"Oh,  well — perhaps  not,"  returned  the  old  lady, 
remembering  Ray  and  his  cordial  partisanship;  "but 
she  is  near  by.  Her  aunt  could  look  after  her. 
There  is  no  reason  why  she  should  stand  in  your 
light." 

"  I  cannot  see  that  it  is  standing  in  my  light  to  pre- 
vent my  coming  here.  What  future  would  such  a  life 
as  you  propose  offer  me  ?  " 

"  Tt  at  would  depend  upon  yourself.  If  you  prove 
to  be  what  I  think  you  are,  if  you  are  of  a  good  even 
temper,  I  should  want  to  keep  you  with  me  as  long  as 
I  live,  and,  in  return  for  your  devotion,  I  should  give 
you  a  place  in  my  will." 


224  NEXT   DOOB. 

Kate  colored.  She  was  filled  with  mingled  sensa 
lions  of  indignation,  gratitude,  and  astonishment. 

"It  surprises  me  very  much,  Mrs.  Exton,"  she  said., 
after  a  pause,  during  which  the  old  lady  watched  her 
closely,  "to  find  that  you  are  sufficiently  pleased  with 
me  in  this  short  time  to  induce  you  to  make  me  such 
an  offer." 

"  That  is  my  affair,"  said  the  other,  with  a  tinge  of 
hauteur  which  chilled  Kate's  effort  at  gentleness.  "  It 
is  a  purely  business  matter.  You  have  attractions 
which  I  wish  to  purchase  to  brighten  a  lonely  life.  It 
is  an  entirely  selfish  transaction  on  my  part." 

Kate  smiled  a  little  at  the  latter  clause,  as  though 
perhaps  she  regarded  it  as  superfluous. 

"  Are  you  willing  to  make  the  bargain  ? "  pursued 
the  invalid,  with  impatience. 

"It  is  impossible,"  said  Kate.  "If  you  understood, 
you  would  not  ask  me  to  leave  Margery." 

"  Well,  you  couldn't  bring  her,"  s;iid  the  other, 
quickly.  "  I  cannot  have  young  people,  noisy  young 
people,  about." 

"Believe  me,  I  did  not  consider  such  a  thing,"  re- 
turned Kate,  flushing. 

"But  I  must  have  you.  I  am  too  much  alone,  and 
one  of  these  days  my  son  will  marry,  and  then  there 
ought  to  be  some  one  to  help  me  bear  it." 

"There  are  dozens  of  young  ladies  —  "began  Kate, 
when  the  other  interrupted  her. 

"There  is  none  for  me  but  you,"  she  said  obsti 
nately.  "  It  is  very  bad  for  me  to  be  so  excited.  Miss 


A   BUSINESS   OFFER.  2CA 

Standish.  I  wish  you  would  be  reasonable  and  accept 
such  a  manifestly  good  offer  as  mine,  good  for  you  and 
good  for  me.  Your  sister  would  be  better  off.  You 
could  do  more  for  her." 

"All  this  only  makes  it  harder  for  us  both,"  said 
Kate,  firmly.  "  I  cannot  accede  to  your  wishes,  for 
many  reasons.  Nothing  would  induce  me  to  leave 
Margery ;  so  you  see  that  is  obstacle  enough,  if  there 
were  no  other." 

"  How  will  it  be  when  you  marry  ?  " 

"  Marriage  does  riot  enter  into  my  calculations." 

"  Ah,  that  suits  me,"  returned  the  other,  in  a  grati» 
fied  tone. 

Kate  bit  her  lip.  "You  speak  as  though  you 
thought  I  should  alter  my  mind  and  come  to  you." 

Mrs.  Exton  raised  her  eyebrows.  "  I  do,  in  fact,  feel 
certain  of  it." 

"  You  were  never  more  mistaken,"  rejoined  the  girl, 
rising,  her  slim,  round  figure  looking  tall  in  its  dark, 
close-fitting  garments.  "  To  tell  you  the  ti-uth,  I  am 
entirely  unwilling  to  sacrifice  the  independence  of  my 
life  so  far.  I  have  not  the  patience,  the  equable  tem- 
per you  desire.  At  the  same  time,"  she  added  con* 
tritely,  taking  a  step  forward,  "  I  should  like  to  dc 
anything  I  can  for  you." 

"Indeed?  After  refusing-  the  only  thing  I  ask?* 
rejoined  the  other. 

"  You  ask  too  much,"  said  the  girl,  with  quiet  pride 
14 1  will  not  give  up  an  honorable  profession  to  become 
a  sort  of  upper  servant  to  ar.  invalid,  thereby  desert 


22b  NEXT  DOOR. 

ing  the  sister  who  is  all  in  all  to  me  ;  but  I  will  conn 
here  and  sing  to  you  or  read  to  you  whenever  my  en- 
gagements will  allow  me." 

"  I  am  very  tired.  I  will  not  detain  you  longer  to. 
day,"  said  the  other,  wearily,  turning  her  head  away 
on  the  pillow. 

Kate  hesitated.  "Can  I  get  you  anything?"  she 
asked.  "Or  shall  I  speak  to  a  servant  as  I  go  out?" 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself.  Excuse  my  lack  of  for- 
biality.  Good  morning." 

Kate  waited  a  moment  to  see  if  the  white  face 
would  turn  to  her  once  more;  but  as  there  was  no 
movement,  she  said  "good  morning,"  took  her  water- 
proof and  left  the  room,  oppressed  with  a  bewildered 
sense  of  injustice.  At  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  she 
came  face  to  face  with  John  Exton  on  his  way  up  to 
his  mother's  room.  The  excitement  in  the  girl's  coun- 
tenance did  not  escape  him. 

"Miss  Standish,  you  have  been  with  my  mother." 

"  Do  persons  always  leave  her  presence  in  a  tearful 
condition?  Is  that  the  way  you  know?"  asked  Kate, 
passing  her  hand  across  her  eyes  with  an  impatient 
movement. 

"I  apologize  for  her  humbly,"  he  replied.  "  What 
can  I  get  for  you,  do  for  you,  Miss  Standish?"  for 
Kate  was  looking  about  vaguely. 

"  Oh,  I  remember,"  she  said;  "I  left  my  umbrella  in 
the  vestibule." 

Mr.  Exton  felt  awkwardly,  deeply,  distressed.  It 
was  lunch  time,  and  his  mother  was  letting  this  guest 


A   BUSINESS   OFFER.  227 

go  inhospitably,  and  with  an  arrow  of  unkindness  in 
her  breast. 

"I  wish  I  knew  —  "  he  began. 

Kate  cast  a  flashing  glance  up  at  him.  "You  did 
know.  You  knew  what  she  was  going  to  ask,  and  you 
allowed  it." 

"  But  you  refused,"  he  said,  eagerly. 

She  gave  him  a  little  scornful  smile.  "Did  you 
think  I  needed  to  be  warned  to  refuse  to  leave  Mar. 
gery?"  she  asked. 

"  Ah,  I  forgot  Margery !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  I  thought  so,"  she  replied,  and  moved  toward  thft 
door. 

"It  is  storming  harder  than  ever,  Miss  Standish,"  he 
Raid,  with  his  hand  on  the  door-handle.  "I  will  ring 
for  my  carriage.  It  is  all  ready.  I  have  just  come 
home  in  it." 

"  No,  indeed,  I  would  much  rather  go  in  the  car." 

"  But  you  detest  street  cars." 

"And  your  carriage  also  to-day,  I  fear,  Mr.  Exton." 

"Miss  Standish,  what  did  she  say  to  you?  I  know 
Bhe  is  wilful,  imperious;  but  how  has  she  hurt  you?" 

Kate  looked  at  him  with  an  effort  at  self-possession 
Her  lips  trembled,  and  she  burst  into  tears.  Exton 
irew  her  into  the  little  reception-room,  and  closed  the 
door.  His  hold  on  her  arm  recalled  her  self-control. 
She  moved  away  from  him  and  held  her  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes,  but  was  perfectly  quiet. 

"You  do  not  know  —  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  re- 
gret this,"  he  said,  feeling  more  helpless  than  ever  in 


S28  NEXT   DOOR. 

his  life  before.  Then  he  stood  silent,  surveying  the 
graceful  figure  and  drooping  head. 

In  a  minute,  to  his  infinite  relief,  Kate  looked  up 
with  the  ghost  of  her  sweet  smile.  He  took  her  hand 
again  and  came  a  step  nearer. 

"  This  will  do  me  good,"  she  said  with  broken 
cheeriness. 

"  What  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  into  her  eyes  eagerly. 

"  Why,  that  little  cry." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  see.  The  little  cry,"  he  repeated 
vaguely. 

Kate  looked  down  at  his  hand  before  she  drew  hers 
away.  What  if  the  invalid  above  stairs  should  sud. 
denly  become  clairvoyant ! 

"Yes,  I  think  it  has  cleai-ed  the  atmosphere,"  she 
said,  releasing  her  hand.  "  Your  mother  is  very  much 
vexed  with  me,  too  much  so  to  accept  any  offer  I  can 
make  her,  but  she  may  feel  differently  later;  and  if 
ever  she  wants  me  to  sing  for  her  or  to  do  anything 
that  I  can  do,  please  remember  that  I  will  come." 

"You  are  very  kind.  I  suppose  she  has  not  de- 
served it.  You  have  discovered  that  so  far  as  you  are 
concerned  your  intuition  regarding  her  was  correct." 

"  I  must  go,"  said  Kate,  turning  abruptly. 

"  And  you  will  not  have  the  carriage,  even  to  oblige 
me?" 

"  I  am  not  in  an  obliging  mood,"  returned  the  girl. 

Mr.  Exton  put  her  waterproof  about  her  shoulden 
Mid  opened  the  door  for  her. 

"  You  are  not  —  where  are  you  going?"  she  asked, 


A   BUSINESS   OFFER.  221* 

pausing,  for  he  had  taken  his  hat  from  the  table  in 
passing. 

"  I  am  going  with  you  to  the  cars." 

"  Please  don't.     It  is  your  lunch  time." 

"It  is  yours  too.  We  will  be  fellow-sufferers  since 
fate  orders  it  so." 

The  storm  had  abated  by  the  time  Kate  reached 
Berkshire  Street.  She  found  Aunt  Ann  with  her 
basket  of  socks,  sitting  with  Margery,  and  the  two 
looked  up  expectantly  as  Kate  walked  in. 

"Had  your  lunch?"  they  exclaimed  in  a  breath. 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  What  did  you  have  ? "  asked  Margery,  with  in- 
tense interest. 

"  Ham  and  fried  rice.  Bread  and  butter  and 
prunes." 

"Do  you  mean  you  lunched  here?"  demanded  Mar- 
gery, justly  incensed. 

"  Of  course  ;  just  now." 

"  Well,  that  was  polite  of  Mrs.  Exton,  after  keeping 
you  so  long.  What  did  she  want  you  for.  We've 
been  guessing,  Aunt  Ann  and  I,"  continued  the  girl, 
briskly,  relieving  her  sister  of  the  wraps  she  carried 
over  her  arm.  "I  guessed  simply  that  she  had  taken 
a  fancy  to  you  and  wanted  you  to  come  and  see  her, 
and  Aunt  Ann  guessed — oh,  how  furious  you  would 
b(  if  you  knew  what  Aunt  Ann  guessed,"  and  Mar- 
gery laughed  a  laugh  of  utter  enjoyment,  while  Aunt 
Ann  shook  a  sock  at  her  and  frowned.  "Is  it  an  el» 
house,  Kate?" 


230  NEXT  DOOR. 

"Very,"  replied  the  other,  drawing  a  chair  close  to 
Aunt  Ann,  with  plain  intent  to  assist  her. 

"All  right,  Kate,  if  you  want  to  help,"  said  Aunt 
Ann,  pulling  over  the  contents  of  the  basket.  "Xo, 
DO,  don't  take  that ;  it's  Mr.  Herring's.  It  does  beat  all 
how  that  man  pounds  through  his  heels.  There's  one 
of  Ray's,  that  won't  try  your  patience.  So  it's  a  fine 
house,  you  say." 

"Very,"  repeated  Kate,  selecting  her  needle  and 
cotton. 

"  Don't  be  monosyllabic,"  said  Margery,  impatiently, 
"just  as  if  you  were  a  man.  Tell  us  about  it." 

"  Well,  I  was  ushered  first  into  a  little  room  all  fire 
and  Jacqueminots;  then  I  was  taken  up  stairs  into 
Mrs.  Exton's  room." 

"Well,  that  was  friendly,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  beaming 
pleasantly  over  her  spectacles. 

"  Does  it  favor  your  guess,  Aunt  Ann  ?  "  asked  Kate, 
smiling  at  her  work. 

"Yes,  yes,  that's  about  what  she'd  do,  ain't  it,  Mar- 
gery?"  and  Aunt  Ann  winked  furtively  at  her 
younger  niece. 

"  Wait,"  said  Margery,  "  my  guess  was  right." 

"  No,  it  was  not,"  remarked  Kate,  quietly.  "  Mrs. 
Exton  is  much  of  the  time  an  invalid,  and  she  wants  a 
companion ;  some  one  to  live  with  her,  amuse  her, 
read  to  her,  sing  to  her,  and  above  all,"  added  Kate, 
looking  up  into  Aunt  Ann's  eyes,  "  to  help  her  to  beat 
her  loneliness  when  her  son  is  married." 

"  Is  the  feller  engaged  ?  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Ann. 


A    BUSINESS    OFFER.  231 

"I  don't  know,  but  Mrs.  Exton  wanted  me  to  be 
ihat  companion." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  ejaculated  Miss  Eaton,  but 
Margery  stared  and  turned  pale. 

Kate  held  a  hand  out  to  her.  "  Comical,  wasn't  it, 
dear?" 

«  Oh,  Kate !  " 

Kate  laughed  softly,  and  her  eyes,  full  of  quick  tears, 
looked  tenderly  into  her  sister's. 

"Not  such  a  bad  offer,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  practl 
cally. 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Kate.  "  She  promised  to  pay 
me  well  and  to  remember  me  in  her  will." 

Aunt  Ann  dropped  her  hand,  loosely  enveloped  in 
Mr.  Herring's  sock. 

"You  don't  say  so!"  she  ejaculated.  "In  other 
words  she  offered  to  adopt  you." 

Kate  laughed,  and  the  sound  brought  the  color  back 
to  Margery's  face.  "  Not  a  bit  of  it,  my  dear  aunt," 
she  said,  gayly.  "  She  was  careful  to  make  me  under- 
stand  that  it  would  be  purely  a  business  arrange- 
ment." 

"  Well,  what  did  you  say?" 

"  That  I  could  not  leave  Margery." 

"  Why,  I  could  have  taken  Margery,"  said  Aunt 
Ann,  simply. 

Kate  bit  her  lip.  Was  it  true  that  there  was  a  pos- 
sibility that  duty  lay  in  so  repugnant  a  path,  and  that 
ihe  was  shirking  it  under  a  mistaken  idea?  A  glance 
«p  at  Margery  reassured  hex. 


E32  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  Would  you  have  liked  to  do  it  ?  "  asked  the  latten 
In  a  subdued  way. 

"I  can  think  of  nothing  that  I  should  like  less,"  said 
Kate,  honestly. 

"  Oh,  all  right  then,"  said  Margery,  drawing  a  long 
breath.  "  How  did  Mrs.  Exton  take  your  refusal." 

"  Very  ill.  She  very  nearly  refused  to  take  it  at 
all.  Do  not  let  us  talk  about  it,  I  am  glad  it  is  over." 

"  H'm,"  said  Aunt  Ann.  "I  guess,  from  what  Ray 
says,  the  old  lady's  pretty  high-headed.  I  shouldn't 
wonder,  Kate,  but  what  you'd  had  enough  of  her 
already." 

"Well,"  said  the  girl,  smiling  and  raising  her  eye- 
brows, "  I  must  say  that  provided  you  were  an  old 
lady  and  needed  such  a  thing,  Aunt  Ann,  I  should 
rather  be  your  companion  than  Mrs.  Exton's." 

Aunt  Ann  laughed  in  a  pleasant,  low  fashion  she 
had.  "I'm  an  old  lady  now,"  she  said,  driving  her 
darning  needle  briskly  in  and  out. 

«Ho!  "  said  Kate.    "Aunt  Ann,  I  call  that  fishing." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

AUNT  ANN  OPENS  HER  HEART. 

SPRIXG  had  come.  Although  nothing  in  nature  cor- 
roborated the  fact,  the  almanac  asserted  it,  and  there 
was  comfort  in  that.  Aunt  Ann  began  to  think  wi3t> 
fully  of  her  little  farm;  and  many  and  long  were  the 
hai'animes  which  Kits  listened  to  on  the  text,  "There's 

O  ' 

no  place  like  home." 

One  evening  her  family  had  scattered  to  their  vari- 
ous engagements,  and  she  sat  by  the  lamp  in  the  parlor 
reading  the  paper.  Kits  had  his  favorite  place  on  the 
rug,  and  the  fire  leaped  and  crackled  gayly.  It  was  a 
cosey  and  comfortable  situation  ;  but  Aunt  Ann's  face 
did  not  express  its  usual  placid  content.  She  sat  with 
her  elbow  resting  on  Margery's  table-scarf,  and  allowed 
her  paper  to  slip  down  to  the  floor  'unnoticed,  while 
her  eyes  looked  miles  away  into  the  sitting-room  at 
home.  Ray  Ingalls  entered  the  room,  and  aroused  her 
from  her  reverie. 

"Why,  Ray,"  she  said,  looking  up  kindly,  "is  it 
possible  you  ain't  going  out  to-night?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  won't  go  out,"  replied  the  new- 
comer, rather  wearily.  "  Certainly  not  if  you  are 
going  to  be  alone." 

233 


234  NEXT  DOOE. 

"  I  don't  mind  it,  my  dear.  I  am  often  alone  here  with 
Kits  in  the  evening.  Don't  stay  in  for  me,  will  you?" 

Ray  pulled  a  chair  toward  the  fire,  and  flung  him- 
self  into  it. 

"  I  don't  know,  though,  but  what  I  ought  to  urge  you 
to  rest  a  little  more,"  she  continued,  scrutinizing  hia 
face  with  some  concern.  "  Seems  to  me  you're  looking 
sort  o'  lantern-jawed,  Ray.  I  think  all  this  dissipation 
is  too  much  for  you." 

"  Well,  it  is  nearly  over  now,"  said  the  young  fellow, 
M  and  I'm  willing.  I  don't  care  for  it." 

"  That's  queer,  too,  at  your  age,"  mused  Aunt  Ann. 
"  But  it's  the  spring  o'  the  year,  and  most  likely  you're 
bilious.  It's  surprising  how  it  affects  a  body's  spirits. 
If  you'd  just  let  me  give  you  a  little  something,  Ray," 
added  Aunt  Ann,  persuasively. 

"  I  wish  you  would,  I'm  sure." 

"Well,  now,  you're  a  good  boy,"  she  replied,  in 
pleased  surprise.  "  Boneset's  the  thing,  you  may  be 
Bure ;  I'll  get  some  to-morrow." 

"  No,  it  isn't,"  said  Ray,  with  rather  a  gloomy  smile. 
"  Heart's-ease  would  be  better." 

"  They  don't  make  tea  of  that,"  rejoined  Aunt  Ann, 
quickly. 

"No,  I  don't  believe  they  do." 

"  Oh,  I  see  what  you're  driving  at,"  said  the  other, 
watching  him  with  a  shyer  interest.  "  You  think  your 
trouble  is  of  the  mind." 

"  The  trouble  is  that  I  am  in  love,  Aunt  Ann,  an<j 
you  knew  that  before." 


AUNT   ANN   OPENS   HER    HEART.  235 

«'  Well,  that  ought  not  to  be  a  trouble." 

A  brightness  came  into  Ray's  brown  eyes  as  ha 
faised  them.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Do 
you  think  she  cares  for  me?" 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it." 

"What  do  you  think?" 

" I  really  don't  know," said  Aunt  Ann  again.  "I've 
tried  not  to  think  much  about  it.  You  are  too  young, 
dear,  to  be  sure  of  yourself." 

Ray  started  from  his  chair,  and  stood  in  front  of  her, 
resting  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"  Aunt  Ann,  look  up  at  me,"  he  said,  quietly ;  and, 
as  she  obeyed,  he  continued,  "Do  you  believe  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  the  truth  ?  " 

"I  believe  you  think  so;  well,  then,"  for  his  eyes 
flashed,  and  his  mouth  looked  firm,  "  yes,  I  do." 

"Then  believe  that  I  love  Margery  as  well  as  I  could 
if  I  were  fifty,  and  that  I  shall  never  love  any  one  else. 
Now  you  must  know  what  it  is  to  me  to  see  her  so 
(seldom,  not  to  know  what  her  real  feelings  are  regard- 
ing me,  to  be  put  off  and  put  off  when  I  try  to  meet 
her,  when  I  try  even  to  speak  of  her." 

This  last  was  a  thrust  at  Aunt  Ann,  and  she  knew  it. 

"  My  dear,  all  this  won't  hurt  you  a  bit  if  you  get 
her  in  the  end,"  she  replied  tranquilly,  gazing  at  him 
through  her  spectacles. 

Ray's  grasp  tightened  on  her  shoulder.  "Bless 
you!"  he  ejaculated.  "  Then  you  think  I  shall  get  her?" 

"You  needn't  make  my  shoulder  black  and  blue,  if 
I  do,"  remarked  Aunt  Ann,  smiling.  "Go  and  sit 


236  NEXT  DOOE. 

down.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  whether  you  will  or  noU 
Kate's  very  odd,  and  Margery  won't  oppose  her  when 
it  comes  to  anything  serious  ;  but  one  thing  I'm  pretty 
Bure  of,  she  doesn't  care  for  any  one  else." 

"  No,  no,  indeed ;  I  believe  not,"  replied  Ray,  hastily. 

"  Up  to  lately  I  some  thought  she  did,"  said  Aunt 
Ann,  with  a  little  air  of  dignity. 

"Who?"  demanded  the  other,  explosively. 

"The  idea  of  your  glaring  at  me  that  way,  Ray 
Ingalls.  'Tain't  likely  you'll  ever  know  who.  I  cer« 
tainly  sha'n't  tell  you ;  And  it  doesn't  make  the  least 
difference  who  it  is,  for  she  told  me  there  was  no  truth 
in  it.  I  will  simply  say  that  he  is  a  very  rich  man, 
gome  older  than  you  are." 

With  this  dignified  statement  Aunt  Ann  contented 
herself ;  but  she  saw  that  matters  with  Ray  were  ap- 
proaching a  crisis,  and  in  her  tender  love  for  Margery 
she  determined  to  do  what,  according  to  her  simple 
and  straightforward  ideas,  would  best  insure  her  niece's 
safety  and  happiness.  She  determined  to  lay  the 
whole  matter  before  the  cool  and  impartial  mind  of 
Uncle  John.  If  there  were  any  reason  why  Ray 
should  not  marry  Margery  and  make  her  happy, 
it  ought  to  be  known  immediately,  before  the 
young  man  could  make  an  opportunity  to  declare 
bis  passion. 

Having  decided  rather  suddenly  upon  this  course. 
Aunt  Ann  was  prompt  in  her  action.  The  next  daj 
found  hei  for  the  second  time  in  Mr.  Exton's  privaU 
tffice. 


AUNT   AJO"  OPENS   HER   HEART.  237 

"I'm  most  ashamed  to  trouble  you  again,"  she  re- 
marked, shaking  his  hand  as  he  rose  to  greet  her. 

"You  need  not  feel  so,"  replied  Exton.  "I  know 
that  you  never  go  on  idle  errands."  And,  motioning 
her  to  a  chair,  he  sat  down  beside  his  desk,  and  turned 
his  serious,  attentive  eyes  upon  her. 

Aunt  Ann  cleared  her  throat.  "  I've  been  noticing,'7 
she  began,  "that  Ray  don't  look  well  lately.  Have 
you  thought  of  it  ? " 

"  Well,  no.     I  have  thought  him  a  little  moody." 

"  That's  it,  sort  o'  fretful,  and  not  much  appetite ; 
and  yes,  he's  thinner,  considerable  thinner." 

"  He  has  been  dancing  too  much,  and  sleeping  too 
little,  perhaps." 

"  Yes,  I  know  he  has ;  and  you  know  he  has  some 
weakness  of  the  lungs." 

"Oh,  I  think  not,"  said  the  other  sceptically;  "Ray 
is  hearty  enough." 

"  Well,  what  I  came  to  tell  you,"  said  Aunt  Ann, 
with  a  little  hesitation,  "  is  that  he  lays  it  all  to  being 
in  love." 

Exton  repressed  his  sudden  smile,  seeing  his  visitor'? 
gravity.  "Did  he  confide  in  you  entirely?" 

"  Yes.  You  know  he's  an  honest  boy,  and  I'm  fond 
of  him ;  but  I'm  fonder  of  Margery,  my  niece,"  said 
Aunt  Ann,  simply,  "  and  it's  her  he's  in  love  with." 

Mr.  Exton  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  fixed  his 
ga/e  on  the  bronze  door-handle. 

"  I  have  been  somewhat  prepared  for  this,"  he  said 
-Haven't  you?" 


238  NEXT   DOOR. 

"Yes  and  no,"  replied  Aunt  Ann.  "I  never  be- 
lieved  it  was  a  deep  and  lasting  feeling,  until  last 
night." 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  time,  then  Exton  spoke. 

"  What  does  the  young  lady  say  ?  " 

"  Bless  you,  she  doesn't  say  anything,"  responded 
Aunt  Ann,  so  suddenly  as  to  cause  another  smile  to 
flit  across  her  companion's  face.  "He  doesn't  get  a 
chance  to  see  her  very  often  ;  and  he's  getting  so  des- 
perate now  that  I'm  afraid  he'll  begin  to  make  chances, 
and  so  I  came  to  you." 

"How  do  you  think  your  niece  regards  Ray?"  was 
Exton's  next  question,  put  in  rather  a  constrained 
manner. 

"  I  know  she  likes  him  very  well,  and  that's  all  I  do 
know.  That  can  all  come  afterward,"  added  Aunt 
Ann,  with  an  unusual  show  of  fh-mness.  "  I've  come 
here  looking  for  just  causes  and  impediments,  if  you 
know  of  any.  I  don't  want  Ray  should  go  near  Mar- 
gery again  unless  it's  all  right  for  him  to." 

"Do  you  mean  financially  right?"  asked  Exton, 
shifting  his  gaze  to  Aunt  Ann's  face. 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  the  money  part  of  it,  but  that's 
important  too.  They  couldn't  live  on  nothing.  What 
1  did  think  of  was  whether  such  a  match  would  be 
agreeable  to  his  family.  I  wanted  not  to  have  all  the 
responsibility  of  favoring  it  or  not  favoring  it  on  my 
shoulders.  So  far  I've  kept  out  of  it.  My  conscience 
is  as  clear  as  crystal,  whichever  way  it  goes.  Now, 
tell  me,  Mr.  Exton,  your  full  mind  about  it." 


AUNT   ANN   OPENS   HER   HEART.  239 

There  was  a  slight  frown  on  Exton's  face,  and  he 
dropped  his  eyes.  "I  am  sorry  this  experience  has 
come  to  Ray  quite  so  early  in  life,"  he  said.  "As  for 
Miss  Margery,  I  am  willing  he  should  marry  her ;  but 
unfortunately  my  willingness  does  not  count  for  much. 
His  money,  —  he  has  a  few  thousands,  — does  not  come 
to  him  before  he  is  twenty-five,  without  my  mother's 
permission." 

"  Well,  they  could  wait  a  few  years,  I  suppose," 
Baid  Aunt  Ann.  meditatively ;  "  that  is,  if  your 
aiother  should  refuse  her  permission ;  but  why  should 
she?" 

"  There  is  no  telling  what  she  would  say  after  she 
saw  Miss  Margery,"  returned  Exton,  evasively. 

Aunt  Ann  suddenly  remembered  Kate's  words,  and 
her  cheeks  grew  red.  "  Perhaps  I  understand,"  she 
said,  in  an  altered  tone.  "  It  wouldn't  be  a  brilliant 
marriage,  and  it  wouldn't  satisfy  your  mother." 

"No,"  replied  the.  other,  straightening  himself;  "to 
be  frank  with  you,  it  would  not.  If  I  knew  Miss 
Margery's  feelings  to  be  involved,  I  would  do  my  best 
to  bring  it  about;  but  not  knowing  whether  she  would 
favor  Ray  in  any  case,  I  dislike  to  worry  my  mother 
with  the  matter." 

"Mr.  Exton,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  rising  and  speaking 
very  distinctly,  "  I  trust  you  rnay  never  have  to.  I 
dcn't  want  the  match  one  mite  more  than  you. do.  My 
girls  are  both  heart-whole  and  happy,  and  any  change 
would  as  likely  be  for  the  worse  as  for  the  better 
Except  for  the  one  matter  of  money,  I  would  match 


240  NEXT   BOOK. 

em  against  any  girls  of  their  nge  in  tliis  city;  :;ml  to 
Bpeak  very  frankly  with  you,  sir,  I  don't  know  of  any 
man,  certainly  none  that  I've  ever  seen,  that's  good 
enough  for  either  of  'em.  I'll  bid  you  good  morning, 
sir." 

"Miss  Eaton  —  " 

"Let  me  go,  sir.  Don't  stand  against  the  dooi}  if 
you  please." 

"  You  must  not  leave  this  place  thinking  that  the 
question  of  money  would  decide  my  mother.  Cannot 
you  understand?  One  has  ambitions  toward  an  old 
family,  a  name  —  " 

"Just  come  to  Cedarville,  Mr.  Exton,  and  tell  some- 
body there  that  the  Batons  ain't  an  old  family.  Just 
come,  sir,  and  try  it,  some  day  when  you  ain't  busy. 
I'll  go  now,  if  you  please ;  I've  heard  enough.  Kate 
told  me  that  you  and  your  mother  looked  down  on  us. 
I  was  silly  enough  to  stand  up  for  you,  and  urge  that 
you  had  a  good,  broad  mind,  and  was  above  such  small 
notions." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  good  opinion.  I  should  have 
said,  too,  that  you  were  too  fair  to  ask  me  to  express 
my  full  mind,  and  then  become  indignant  with  me  for 
doing  so." 

Aunt  Ann's  lips  twitched,  and  she  began  to  waver. 

"I  hardly  think,"  continued  Exton,  "that  either  of 
as,  however  much  we  may  wish  it,  will  be  able  to  pre- 
vent Ray  from  proposing  to  Miss  Margery." 

"I  might  run  away  with  her  down  to  Cedarville," 
•nggested  Aunt  Ann,  tremulously. 


AUNT   ANN    OPENS   HER    HEART.  241 

"  Ray  would  follow  you  by  the  next  train,"  replied 
Exton. 

"In  five  minutes'  talk  with  Kate  I  can  make  all 
safe,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  with  sudden  mournfulness. 
"You  needn't  worry.  Something  tells  me  that  she 
won't  favor  the  match,  and  I  need  only  tell  her  what 
you've  said." 

"I  hope  you  won't  do  that,  Miss  Eaton.  It  seems 
to  me  you  are  a  little  hard  on  Miss  Margery." 

"I  hard  on  Margery!  Well,  that  from  yow,  Mr. 
Exton ! " 

"Yes.  The  first  thing  is  to  find  out  if  she  lovea 
Ray.  If  she  does,  matters  must  be  arranged." 

Aunt  Ann  looked  incredulous,  and  her  eyes  sparkled. 
She  bit  her  lip  undecidedly.  "You  mean  —  do  you 
ir.ean  — "  she  faltered. 

"  To  assist  them  ?    Yes,  certainly." 

"But  if  your  ma  holds  out?"  Aunt  Ann  clasped 
and  unclasped  her  black  gloves. 

John  Exton  smiled.  "  If  I  wish  to  lend  Ray  money, 
I  can  do  so  on  safe  security." 

"  Mr.  Exton,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  in  a  shaking  voice, 
taking  his  hand  in  both  of  hers,  "  I  want  you  should 
let  me  take  back  anything  I've  said  that  —  that  ain't 
true,  and  that  don't  thank  you." 

"I  shall  not  bear  malice,"  he  replied.  "I  do  not 
believe  there  is  anything  more  you  can  do  about  this, 
1M  ;ss  Eaton.  Perhaps  you  might  as  well  leave  it  to 
m.." 

"Oh,  will  you  take  it?1' 


242  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  I  will  do  what  I  can.  You  know  third  parties 
are  not  often  successful  in  their  interference  in  these 
matters,  and  I  shall  interfere  as  little  as  possible." 

"  Well,  I  leave  it  to  you  gratefully,"  said  Aunt  Ann, 
shaking  his  hand  heartily.  "  Look  here,  I  want  you 
should  tell  me  one  thing  honestly." 

Exton  smiled,  and  looked  doubtful.  "It  doesn't 
do  to  be  too  honest  with  you,"  he  said. 

"Pshaw,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Ann,  with  a  little  shake 
of  her  head,  "  you  make  me  ashamed.  Don't  think  I 
shall  fire  up  again,  because  I  sha'n't.  You  said  you 
was  willing  Ray  should  marry  Margery.  Did  you 
mean  that?  Should  you  be  perfectly  satisfied  to  take 
her  around  as  your  nephew's  wife ;  or  would  you  like 
something  else  better  for  Ray  ?  " 

"It  seems  to  me  you  are  not  very  wise  to  ask  these 
questions,"  returned  Exton.  "  It  would  be  a  great 
convenience  if  people  could  fall  in  love  always  in  a 
direction  to  offend  nobody's  ideas  of  appropriateness." 

"  Those  girls,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  "  lived  like  litt'e 
princesses  when  they  were  children.  Suppose  the 
money  had  lasted ;  then  I  presume  Margery  would 
have  been  appropriate  enough." 

"No,  that  does  not  make  the  difference.  However, 
if  you  only  want  to  know  my  attitude,  I  can  assure 
you  that  I  do  not  question  the  wisdom  of  Ray's  choice, 
and  if  Miss  Margery  sees  fit  to  connect  herself  with 
our  family,  I  shall  do  my  best  to  prevent  her  regretting 
the  step." 

Aunt  Ann  took  her  leave  somewhat  puzzled,  but  on 


AUNT   ANN   OPENS   HER   HEART.  243 

the  whole  with  a  grateful  sensation  of  trust  in  Uncle 
John,  and  of  relief  from  further  responsibility  in  the 
matter. 

It  was  on  that  evening  that  Ray  Ingalls  had  the  un- 
usual good  fortune  to  meet  Margery  at  the  foot  of  the 
steps,  as  they  were  both  returning  from  the  city. 

"  Good  evening,"  said  the  girl,  pleasantly,  but  with 
the  evident  intention  of  saying  no  more. 

Ray  held  out  his  hand  as  they  went  side  by  side  uj 
their  respective  steps,  and  Margery  gave  him  her  left 
one. 

"  I  was  coming  in  to  see  you  this  evening,"  he  said, 
trying  to  speak  as  though  calling  upon  his  next-door 
neighbors  were  an  event  of  common  occurrence. 

"  Oh,  then,  it  is  fortunate  that  I  met  you.  You  can 
tell  me  now  what  it  is  you  want."  There  was  noth- 
ing cold  or  reserved  in  the  girl's  tone;  but  never* 
theless  Ray  felt  himself  to  be  held  off  at  a  hopeless 
distance. 

"  I  want  to  know  first  why  I  may  not  call  on  you," 
he  said,  brusquely.  "  Are  you  afraid  if  I  commenced 
coming  I  should  prove  myself  a  bore?" 

"  Of  course  I  don't  think  any  such  thing,"  said  Mar- 
gery, coloring.  "  I  know  very  well  you  have  too  many 
attractive  places  to  call,  to  care  to  come  often  to  see 
us.  It  is  simply  that  we  have  no  quiet  place  to  re- 
ceive anybody  in,  and  Kate  doesn't  —  we  do  not  try  to 
entertain  any  one." 

"  Well,  I  want  to  come.  I  want  to  see  you,  to  talk 
with  you,"  answered  Ray,  quickly  "If  you  do  not 


244  NEXT  DOOR. 

wish  me  to  come  in  there,  will  you  go  with  me  to  heal 
Miss  Thursby  Friday  night  ?  " 

Margery  caught  her  breath  at  the  boldness  of  the 
proposal.  "Oh,  wouldn't  that  be  delightful!"  she 
exclaimed. 

"  Then  you  will  go.  Thank  you.  I  will  not  detain 
you."  And  bowing,  Kay  rushed  precipitately  into  the 
house,  without  waiting  for  the  inevitable  "  if  "  or  "  but " 
which  was  so  sure  to  crush  his  hopes. 

Margery  went  in  and  up  stairs,  her  heart  beating 
rather  quickly.  She  felt  intuitively  that  this  little 
doorstep  episode  was  a  turning-point  in  her  life. 
Should  she  have  strength  enough  of  mind  to  withstand 
Kate's  objections?  She  had  never  been  out  anywhere 
with  any  gentleman  but  her  father.  Ray's  invitation 
seemed  to  her  nearly  as  portentous  as  an  invitation  to 
elope  would  appear  to  a  more  sophisticated  damsel. 

Kate  was  at  home  before  her,  and  upon  Margery's 
entrance  the  former  greeted  her  brightly. 

*'  Good  news,  Margie,"  she  said ;  "  Madam  Sevrance 
has  tickets  for  us  to  go  with  her  to  hear  Miss  Thursby 
Friday  night." 

Margery  stared  blankly,  but  immediately  turned  her 
dismay  into  a  smile. 

"  How  odd  that  is  —  I  mean  that  it  should  happen 
just  now.  Mr.  Ingalls,"  with  a  bold  rush  at  the  diffi- 
culty, "  has  just  invited  me  to  go  with  him." 

"  Well,  this  previous  invitation  which  I  have  ac- 
cepted for  you  will  be  a  perfect  excuse.  How  fortu 
"  observed  Kate. 


AUNT   ANN   OPENS   HER   HEART.  245 

Margery  sat  down  in  a  chair  facing  her.  Her  fluffy 
hair,  bright  eyes,  high  color,  and  a  general  air  of 
audacity,  chained  her  sister's  uneasy  attention. 

"  I'm  not  sure,  Kate,"  she  said,  deliberately,  "  that  I 
want  any  excuse.  I  think  I  would  like  to  go  with 
Mr.  Ingalls." 

"  Why,  Margery !  " 

"Is  it  very  strange  that  I  should  prefer  to  go  with 
somebody  who  considers  that  I  am  doing  him  a  favor, 
rather  than  to  be  tucked  in  behind  Madam  Sovrance's 
cold  shoulder,  and  forgotten  all  the  evening,  while  sh«» 
converses  with  you  about  larynxes  and  diaphragms  c"' 

"  Why,  Margery  !  " 

"  I  shall  be  nineteen  next  month,  old  enough  to  be 
married,  and  plenty  old  enough  to  decide  a  little  thing 
like  this  for  myself,  and  I'm  going  with  him." 

"  Why,  Margery ! " 

Margery  laughed.  "  You  have  that  little  phrase 
perfectly,  Kate." 

"  Be  careful,  dear,  or  this  will  lead  to  trouble,"  said 
Kate,  gravely,  after  a  moment  of  silence.  "Ray 
Ingalls  admires  you  very  much.  If  it  should  come  to 
anything  serious,  the  Extons  would  be  displeased." 

Margery's  eyes  flashed  blue  light.  "  I  will  be  care- 
ful," she  said,  quietly. 

"Well,"  sighed  Kate,  with  a  half  smile,  "you  have 
nade  a  declaration  of  independence." 

"Yes,  my  love,"  said  the  other,  gnyly;  "and  I 
•.bought  you  might  be  so  obstreperous  that  I  should 
lave  to  read  the  riot  act  also." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

KAY  CROSSES  THE  RUBICON. 

IT  gave  Kate  a  strange  sensation  on  Friday  evening 
to  look  across  the  audience  and  see  Margery  seated  in 
another  part  of  the  house.  Madam  Sevrance  did  not 
express  much  astonishment  on  being  told  of  her  defec- 
tion. Kate  was  somewhat  surprised  by  her  calm 
reply. 

"Ah,  indeed.  Going  with  young  Ingalls?  He  is 
rather  a  desirable  person  to  know  —  that  is  very  pleas- 
ant for  Margery." 

There  could  be  no  doubt,  Kate  thought,  as  she 
looked  at  her  sister,  that  it  was  pleasant  for  her  escort 
as  well.  Margery  looked  as  pretty  in  her  cleverly 
devised  costume  as  she  could  have  done  if  it  had  cost 
a  small  fortune;  and  Ray  being  a  handsome  young 
fellow,  especially  under  his  present  pressure  of  happi- 
ness, Kate  was  not  the  only  person  present  who  took 
especial  notice  of  them.  To  these  two  every  number 
on  the  programme  was  perfection.  Ray  went  during 
the  intermission  to  speak  with  Madam  Sevrance  and 
tvate,  and  Margery  watched  his  movements  with 
demure  satisfaction. 

246 


KAY   CEOSSES    THE   RUBICON,  247 

"I  do  think  he  has  the  nicest  walk.  Oh,  I'm  afraid 
I  like  worldly  people  ! "  she  mused,  with  a  quiet  little 
sigh  and  a  downward  glance  at  the  splendid  roses  on 
her  breast.  Ray  returned,  moving  with  the  nonchalant 
air  which  had  won  her  good  opinion,  but  there  was 
nothing  nonchalant  in  his  expression  as  he  resumed  his 
seat. 

"Madam  Sevrance  and  Miss  Standish  are  going  to 
• 's  to  supper  after  the  concert,"  he  said.  "  I  prom- 
ised that  we  would  meet  them  there.  Was  that  right  ?  " 

"Quite  right,"  replied  Margery,  promptly. 

She  had  received  unexceptionable  flowers,  she  had 
come  to  the  concert  in  a  carriage,  she  had  been  enter- 
tained and  deferred  to  all  the  evening.  It  was  fitting 
that  the  finishing  touch  should  be  added  by  a  supper 
at  the  fashionable 's. 

But  when  they  arrived  there,  to  Margery's  surprise 
Ray  led  her  to  a  table  quite  remote  from  the  one  at 
which  Kate  and  her  chaperone  were  sitting. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  we  were  going  to  be  with  Kate," 
ehe  said. 

"  It  doesn't  matter,  does  it  ?  "  asked  Ray. 

"  There  is  room  at  their  table,"  suggested  Margery. 

"But  you  see  I  am  afraid  they  might  talk  to 
you." 

"  Well,"  ejaculated  the  girl,  smiling. 

"  You  don't  care  for  Madam  Sevrance,  I'm  sure,  and 
you  can  have  Kate  at  home." 

"I  do  not  see  why  you  call  her  Kate,"  observed 
Margery,  feeling  it  incumbent  upon  her  to  find  fault 


248  NEXT  DOOR. 

with  him  on  some  pretext,  as  an  offset  to  the  meekness 
with  which  she  seated  herself  at  the  table. 

"  Beg  pardon ;  Miss  Standish.  Ah,  there  is  Uncle 
John.  Isn't  he  a  splendid  looking  fellow?" 

Ray  said  this  as  he  took  his  own  seat,  and  Margery, 
following  his  glance,  looked  toward  the  entrance  and 
Baw  Mr.  Exton  come  in,  in  evening  dress  and  alone 
He  was  an  impressive  looking  man,  and  it  gave  Mar- 
gery another  pleasurable  thrill  when,  bowing  to  many 
acquaintances,  he  singled  her  out  and  came  toward 
her.  The  gods  were  providing  many  gifts  for  her 
to-night,  so  she  did  not  ask  why  he  shook  her  hand  so 
cordially,  and  greeted  her  with  such  marked  kindness. 

"  Sorry  there  isn't  room  to  offer  you  a  place  here, 
Uncle  John,"  said  Ray,  unblushingly. 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  the  new-comer.  "  Do  not  let 
it  deprive  you  of  your  appetite.  Have  you  been  hear- 
ing Miss  Thursby  ?  "  he  added,  addressing  Margery. 

"  Yes,  and  I  had  never  heard  her,"  replied  the  girL, 
"so  I  need  not  tell  you  how  delighted  I  have  been. 
Mr.  Ingalls  and  I  both  said  we  never  enjoyed  a  con- 
cert so  much  in  our  lives." 

"Indeed!"  said  Exton,  gravely.  "I  ought  not  to 
have  missed  it.  I  see  your  sister  is  here." 

"  Yes,"  said  Margery,  casting  a  pitying  glance  across 
the  gay  crowd  to  where  Kate  sat ;  poor  Kate,  with  no 
worshipping  brown  eyes  seeking  her  approval,  no  dis- 
tinguished individual  leaning  over  her  chair. 

"Yes,  Kate  is  here  with  Madam  Sevrance." 

**I  must  go  and  see  them  "  ;  and  lo,  in  a  moment  il 


BAY   CROSSES   THE    RUBICON.  249 

W&8  over  Kate's  chair  tlint  the  distinguished  individual 
was  leaning,  and  as  Margery  looked  she  saw  Exton 
accept  an  evident  invitation  from  Madam  Sevrance, 
and  take  a  seat  beside  her.  Then  the  watcher  gave 
a  sigh  of  satisfaction  and  turned  her  attention  to 
the  menu. 

It  was  with  sincere  regret  that  she  stepped  at  last 
into  the  carriage,  and  started  for  home. 

"  Such  a  pleasant  evening,"  she  exclaimed,  as  Ray- 
took  his  place  beside  her. 

Without  replying,  her  escort  immediately  thrust  his 
head  out  the  window.  "Drive  slowly!"  he  ordered. 

<r  Oh  —  you  needn't  have  done  that,"  said  Margery, 
a  little  startled. 

"Why  not?  Do  you  mean  that  1  am  to  see  you 
again  in  a  day  or  two  ?  " 

"  No,  not  that  I  know  of.     Maybe  —  " 

"Ah,"  said  Ray,  with  a  shake  of  the  head,  "maybes 
are  not  flying  this  month.  We  children  at  school  used 
to  consider  that  a  crushing  sarcasm,  and  I  trust  you 
get  my  full  meaning.  I  am  not  going  to  give  up  a 
bird  in  the  hand  for  any  number  in  the  bush.  I  know 
enough  to  make  the  most  of  this  drive.  Still  I  have 
Borne  hope  that  the  spell  is  broken  now.  Do  you  mean 
to  be  kinder  to  me  in  future  ?  Will  you  treat  me  aa 
ether  young  ladies  do?" 

"How  do  they  treat  you?"  asked  Margery,  de- 
murely. 

"As  if  they  liked  me,  —  some  of  them,"  said  Ray, 
looking  at  her  steadily. 


250  NEXT   DOOR. 

"So  do  I,  I'm  sure,"  she  returned,  in  an  injured 
Fashion.  "  Haven't  I  been  to  a  concert  with  you  to- 
night, the  first  time  I  ever  went  out  with  a  gentle- 
man?" 

"  Is  it,  really?"  said  Ray,  joyfully. 

"Yes,  indeed." 

"  And  you  have  enjoyed  yourself?" 

"  More  than  I  can  say." 

"  Then  you  will  let  me  take  you  soon  again." 

" No,  I  think  not  soon" 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  do  not  care  to  go  anywhere  again,  soon. 
What  an  awful  story!"  added  Margery.  "I  should 
like  to  go  somewhere  almost  every  evening.  How  you 
young  men  must  enjoy  yourselves,  able  to  go  when 
and  where  you  please." 

"We  do  not  care  to  go  alone,"  said  Ray,  and  he 
spoke  less  glibly.  "  Miss  Margery,  —  Margery,  is  it 
for  propriety's  sake  that  you  put  me  off,  or  is  it  be- 
cause I  bore  you  ?  " 

"For  shame,  Mr.  Ingalls  —  a  brilliant  society  man 
fishing  for  a  compliment." 

"Don't  make  game  of  me,"  pleaded  Ray.  "I  am 
in  earnest.  Forgive  me  for  cornering  you,  but  in 
this  carriage  you  can't  get  away  from  me,  and  fror 
the  first  day  I  met  you  you  have  been  escaping  me  at 
every  turn.  I  want  to  know  what  you  really  want  me 
to  do." 

"Oh,  I  only  want  you  to  be  entertaining  for  th« 
pexti  fitteen  or  twenty  minutes." 


RAY   CROSSES   THE   RUBICON.  251 

u  And  after  that  to  let  you  alone  for  an  indefinite 
period?"  Ray  added  thin  question  quite  suddenly, 
and  fiercely,  and  with  such  marked  intention  to  get 
a  definite  answer,  that  Margery  caught  her  breath 
a  little,  as  though  a  gust  of  wind  had  blown  in  her 
face. 

"  Why,  —  no,  I  shouldn't  like  that  at  all,"  she  con- 
fessed. 

"Margery,  you  have  become  the  whole  world  to 
me,"  he  exclaimed,  impulsively.  "  It  would  be  folly 
to  try  to  tell  you  how  much  I  love  you.  Everything 
else  is  absorbed  in  it.  Nothing  has  power  to  interest 
me  any  more  except  as  it  refers  in  some  way  to  you. 
I  seem  to  have  lost  the  memory  of  any  time  when  you 
were  not  the  central  figure  in  my  thoughts,  night  and 
day.  Do  you  know  the  old  German  song, 

'  Thee  loved  I  ever,  I  lo  /e  but  thee, 
And  thee  will  I  love  to  eternity.' 

It  is  forever  in  my  mind,  the  best  expression  of  the 
truth.  Don't  shrink  from  me,  Margery.  Do  not  —  " 

"  I  think  you  are  not  very  fair,  Mr.  Ingalls,"  she 
said,  as  steadily  as  the  excited  beating  of  her  heart 
would  allow. 

"  I  cannot  be  fair.  You  will  not  let  me.  I  did  not 
mean  to  speak  to-night ;  but  I  might  have  known  I 
could  not  help  it.  To  be  so  near  you,  to  be  alone  with 
you,  to  love  you  so  dearly.  You  cannot  be  angry 
with  one  who  puts  himself  completely  at  your  mercy, 
Say  that  you  will  try  to  like  me,  Margery.  See ;  I  do 
not  try  to  touch  so  much  as  the  hem  of  your  garment 


252  NEXT  L»OOR. 

I  will  obey  you  in  everything,  only  say  that  you  are 
not  angry,  and  that  I  may  hope." 

He  paused ;  but  Margery  was  silent. 

"  Have  you  never  thought  of  this?  "  he  urged.  "No, 
I  did  not  mean  to  ask  that.  Have  I  shocked  you?" 

"You  have  surprised  me  very  much,"  said  Margery, 
gravely.  Her  self-possession  was  restored.  She  no 
longer  felt  frightened,  although  the  blood  ran  quickly 
through  her  veins,  and  tingled  in  her  very  finger-tips. 
"I  have  no  right  to  encourage  you  to  believe  that  we 
can  ever  be  more  to  each  other  than  we  are  now." 

"  I  am  encouraged  already,"  said  Ray,  quickly. 
"  Forgive  me ;  but  if  it  is  only  a  question  of  right 
and  wrong,  I  know  I  can  show  you  that  it  is  right  for 
us  to  —  to  love  each  other.  Margery,"  he  turned  and 
leaned  his  arm  on  the  cushion  near  her  shoulder, 
thereby  more  nearly  facing  her,  "  don't  you  think  if 
you  gave  me  your  hand  now  there  would  be  more 
probability  of  your  giving  me  your  heart  later  on?" 

Margery  clasped  her  hands  tightly  in  her  lap.  "  Per- 
haps; but  that  is  the  very  reason  I  must  not  do  it.  I 
must  not  give  you  —  anything." 

Ray  drew  a  long  breath.  "  We  could  talk  a  great 
deal  better,"  he  said,  and  suddenly  Margery  felt  his 
hand  slip  between  hers,  and  take  one  of  them  in  ita 
clasp.  "  There,  you  have  given  nothing,"  he  said  ;  "  I 
take  this  on  my  own  responsibility." 

She  tried  to  release  herself,  but  was  gently  held  firm. 
wJust  a  minute,  Margery,  while  we  talk  this  thing 
aver." 


BAY   CROSSES   THE   11UB1CON.  253 

"I  want  to  talk  it  over  impartially,"  she  replied, 
falteringly. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to,  dear,"  he  replied. 

Margery  yielded  for  an  instant  to  the  spell  of  his 
will,  then  caught  aer  hreatli  with  sudden  determina- 
tion. "Mr.  Ingalls,  you  said  you  would  obey  me.  I 
am  in  earnest,"  she  said.  "  I  want  you,"  tucking  her 
recovered  hand  underneath  its  mate,  "  I  want  you  to 
know  that  I  appreciate  the  honor  you  do  me —  " 

"  Don't !  That  is  what  the  heroine  of  a  novel  always 
says  just  previous  to  refusing  the  hero.  Do  not  say 
that.  It  is  ominous,"  protested  Ray,  who  was  in  a 
transport  of  hopefulness ;  "  and  call  me  Ray.  If  I  am 
to  be  discouraged,  at  least  show  me  that  clemency." 

"  It  is  a  very  pretty  name.  I  will  call  you  by  it  if 
you  wish,"  replied  Margery,  speaking  seriously;  "but 
I  must  really  discourage  you." 

"On  what  grounds?" 

"  You  need  not  know  that." 

Ray  looked  up  suddenly.  "  That  is  a  way  you  can 
baffle  me,  Margery,"  he  answered,  gravely  ;  "  but  it  is 
a  strange  return  for  what  you  were  pleased  to  call 
4  the  honor '  I  pay  you." 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  the  girl,  quickly.  "  It  is  due 
to  you  to  understand  clearly.  For  one  thing,  your 
family  would  be  displeased  —  Mr.  Exton  and  his 
mother." 

"  What  of  that  ?    I  do  not  ask  you  to  marry  them." 

"  But  you  know  you  would  cause  them  great  disap- 
pointment." 


254  NEXT   DOOR. 

"You  cannot  care  for  me  at  all.  if  you  consider 
ihat.  However,  I  will  not  conceal  from  you  that 
grandmother  can  make  me  a  great  deal  of  trouble  if 
she  chooses.  My  mother  left  her  money  so  that  I  can- 
not touch  it  before  I  am  twenty-five  without  grand- 
mother's consent." 

"  Then  you  have  three  years  to  wait  before  you  can 
marry,  in  any  case.  Why  need  you  be  so  urgent?" 
asked  Margery,  with  evident  relief. 

"  Indeed,  I  have  not,"  said  Ray,  ardently.  "  If  you 
will  let  me  take  you  to  hei-,  Margery,  I  give  you  my 
word  that  you  will  charm  grandmother  into  consent- 
ing to  anything." 

"That  is  out  of  the  question,"  said  the  girl,  shaking 
her  head ;  "  and  were  your  family  not  opposed,  I  would 
still  not  leave  Kate." 

Ray  did  not  speak  for  a  time,  then  he  said  :  "  Have 
I  been  deceiving  myself?  Do  you  not  care  for  me?" 

Margery  maintained  a  resolute  silence. 

"Is  there  anybody  else?" 

"Nobody."  " 

"Margery,  dear,  will  you  punish  me  because  the 
other  members  of  my  family  do  not  know  and  appre- 
ciate you?" 

"  I  could  never  go  among  them  unwelcome,"  said 
the  girl,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  And  you  never  should,"  returned  Ray. 

"  But  Kate,"  said  Margery. 

Ray  knit  his  brows.  "  Kate  must  De  married/'  he 
laid,  decisively. 


RAY   CROSSES   THE   RUBICON.  255 

Margery  smiled  involuntarily.  "Very  well,"  she 
eaid,  "  when  Kate  is  married  —  "  She  hesitated. 

"  You  will  marry  me  ?  " 

"  You  cannot  think  of  such  a  thing  for  a  long  time." 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  poverty  ? '  asked  Ray,  reproach- 
mlly. 

"Very  much,"  was  the  unexpected  reply.  "You 
«ee  I  have  been  acquainted  with  it.  You  have  not." 

"But  we  should  not  be  poor,"  said  Ray,  eagerly. 
"  I  have  a  good  salary  ;  that  is  — "  he  hesitated. 

"  Yes,"  said  Margery,  "  probably  enough  to  buy  all 
the  dress  suits  and  flowers  required  in  your  arduous 
existence.  No,"  she  added,  more  gently,  "  I  am  not  so 
mercenary.  I  would  marry  a  poor  man  if  I  loved  him 
and  he  wished  it ;  but  I  would  not  try  to  live  with 
him  in  the  city  among  all  the  accustomed  pleasures 
which  would  now  be  just  out  of  his  reach.  I  would  go 
away  into  the  country  somewhere,  or  out  West  to  a 
ranch.  What  sort  of  a  farmer  do  you  think  you  would 
?nake?"  She  finished,  breaking  into  a  soft  laugh  at 
the  idea. 

"  A  good  one,  no  doubt.  I  promise  to  succeed  at 
everything  I  undertake,  if  you  will  say  that  you  love 

m-»n 

"Ah,  Ray,"  replied  the  girl,  calling  him  by  his  name 
for  the  first  time,  very  gently,  "if  I  should  say  that 
you  would  become  unmanageable.  There!  I  knew 
it,"  she  exclaimed ;  for  he  had  seized  both  her  hands. 

"Margery,"  he  said,  low  and  excitedly,  "you  have 
*dmitted  it.  Say  it  once,  darling.  I  will  do  anything, 


-56  NEXT  DOOR. 


anything,  for  the  sake  of  hearing  you  say  once  in 
bo  many  words,  '  Ray,  I  love  you.'  " 

"  But  we  are  at  home,  there  isn't  time,"  she 
breathed. 

"  Yes,  only  four  words  ;  say  it,  Margery,  darling." 

The  carriage  stopped.  The  driver  leaped  down,  and 
flung  open  the  door. 

Ray  muttered  something  as  he  stepped  out  and  gave 
his  hand  to  Margery.  She  alighted,  and  the  carriage 
rolled  away. 

"  One  moment  before  we  go  in,"  he  pleaded. 

"  Not  a  moment." 

They  stood  before  Mrs.  Brown's  door.  "Thank  you 
for  giving  me  a  very  pleasant  evening,"  said  the  girl, 
unsteadily.  It  seemed  to  her  that  years  had  passed 
since  they  left  the  supper-room  at  -  's. 

"And  you  will  not  give  me  one  thing  to  thank  you 
for,  Margery,  one  definite  word  of  hope  ?  " 

She  held  the  door  partly  open,  and  he  could  see  her 
uhy  face  dimly  in  the  waning  moonlight.  "When 
Kate  is  married,"  she  said,  and  slipped  into  the  house. 

Margery  paused  a  minute  after  she  was  safely  in- 
side. She  felt  breathless;  and  it  was  not  until  she 
heard  her  name  called  softly  from  the  head  of  the 
Blairs  that  she  began  to  ascend. 

"I  am  coming,  Kate,"  she  replied,  in  the  same  lotv 
lone. 

"  I  am  relieved  to  see  you,"  said  Kate.  "  I  could 
got  understand  why  you  should  be  so  late.  You  left 
—  •  —  's  before  we  did." 


BAY  CROSSES  THE  RUBICON.  257 

**I  suppose  your  horses  came  faster  than  ours,"  said 
Margery,  carelessly.  "  Well,  how  have  you  enjoyed 
imposturing  this  evening  ?  "  she  asked,  as  they  passed 
into  their  room. 

"  It  was  a  delightful  concert,"  returned  Kate,  taking 
off  the  bunch  of  violets  which  had  come  just  at  the 
right  time,  as  usual.  "  You  seemed  to  be  enjoying  it." 

"  Yes,  indeed.  Mr.  Ingalls  and  I  thought  it  was  the 
loveliest  concert  we  had  ever  attended."  Margery's 
enthusiasm  had  a  warmed-over  flavor,  which  did  uot 
escape  her  sister. 

"  You  look  a  little  tired,  dear.  You  see  going  with 
Madam  Sev ranee  and  me  has  its  compensations,  after 
all.  You  do  not  have  to  exert  yourself  so  much.  I 
told  you  before  you  went,  Margery,"  added  Kate,  con- 
fidentially, "  that  Ray  IngaJls  admired  you  very  much. 
To-night  convinced  me  of  it.  His  manner  was  so 
devoted  as  to  be  noticeable.  I  dislike  to  put  such 
thoughts  into  your  head  ;  but  I  am  older  than  you  are, 
to  say  nothing  of  being  your  sister,  and  I  think  I  ought 
to  warn  you." 

Margery  sat  down,  and  began  slowly  to  unbutton 
her  gloves.  "It  is  going  to  be  very  troublesome 
if  anybody  does  admire  one  of  us,  is  it  not?"  she 
said. 

Kate  was  half  smiling,  too  pre-occupied  with  some 
nleasant  thought  of  her  own  to  notice  her  sister's  un- 
usual gravity. 

"What?  Oh,  yes.  So  very  troublesome  that  it 
ought  to  resign  us  to  settling  down  into  hopeless  spin* 


258  NEXT  DOOR. 

Bteihood.  But  no  one  whom  we  should  be  willing  to 
marry  will  ever  want  to  marry  one  of  us." 

"  Do  you  feel  sure  of  it  ?  " 

"Oh,  perfectly,"  said  Kate,  with  an  unconscioui 
nigh. 

"Well,  if  it  should  by  some  wonderful  accident 
occur,  do  you  not  hope  it  will  not  happen  to  you  to 
choose  between  me  and  some  man  ?  " 

"No  man  could  ever  separate  me  from  you,  Mar- 
gery." 

"  I  knew  it,"  said  Margery,  with  more  resignation 
than  fervor. 

"  It  would  be  utter  desolation  for  the  one  that  was 
left,"  observed  Kate,  musingly. 

"  Why,  there  is  Aunt  Ann,"  suggested  Margery,  half 
resentfully. 

"Yes,"  said  Kate,  smiling,  "and  a  home  in  Cedar- 
ville.  I  love  Aunt  Ann  very  much,  but  —  she  couldn't 
fill  your  place,  Margery." 

"  Of  course,  neither  of  us  would  want  to  be  selfish? 
suggested  Margery.  "  Of  course,  neither  of  us  would 
stand  in  the  way  of  the  other's  happiness." 

"I  know  you  are  generous  enough  for  anything," 
remarked  Kate,  "but  we  shall  not  be  tempted,  my 
child.  Take  Mr.  Ingalls,  for  instance.  Some  girls  in 
your  place  would  draw  him  on  to  a  proposal.  There 
pre  girls  who  would  be  able  to  endure  the  criticism 
and  coldness  of  his  family  ;  who  would  be  willing  to 
«lbow  their  way  into  it,  ns  it  were.  Ugh!"  Kate 
shuddered.  "  We  are  falling  into  dangerous  ways,  mf 


BAY  CROSSES   THE   RUBICON".  259 

iear,"  she  continued,  with  heightened  color  and  shin- 
ing eyes.  "Too  many  flowers  and  carriages,  too  many 
aristocratic  acquaintances.  Has  Aunt  Ann  told  you 
that  she  goes  home  in  a  month?  The  house  was  only 
taken  until  the  first  of  May.  I  want  you  to  go  with 
her,  Margery." 

Margery  looked  up  suddenly,  with  a  defiance  that 
immediately  softened  into  surprise.  "Without  you?" 

"I  cannot  go  so  soon.  I  only  wish  I  could.  When 
I  can  get  away  I  will  follow  you." 

Margery  rose  and  went  to  the  bureau.  She  straight, 
ened  the  gloves  she  had  taken  off,  and  drew  them 
caressingly  across  her  cheek.  "  I  suppose  I  might  ag 
well  be  in  Cedarville  as  in  Boston,"  she  said,  as  she  laid 
them  in  her  drawer. 


CHAPTER  XXin. 

UNCLE  AND  NEPHEW. 

MR.  EXTON  decided,  seeing  Margery  and  Ray  so 
friendly  together,  that  they  would  probably  be  amply 
able  to  dispense  with  his  aid  in  their  affairs  at  least 
for  some  time  to  come.  It  surprised  him  then  to  be 
accosted  by  his  nephew  on  the  following  day  with  the 
request  for  an  interview,  more  especially  as  there  was 
nothing  in  the  young  man's  manner  which  differed 
from  the  thoughtful  air  common  to  him  of  late. 

"  You  had  better  come  home  with  me  to  dinner, 
Ray,  so  we  can  be  undisturbed,"  Exton  replied. 

"Thank  you,  I  will.  I  want  to  see  grandmother, 
too." 

Mrs.  Exton,  howevei',  did  not  appear  at  the  dinner 
table ;  and  when  the  rather  silent  meal  was  over,  the 
gentlemen  repaired  to  Exton's  den,  a  luxurious  mas« 
culine  retreat,  where,  amid  the  perfume  of  cigar 
smoke,  Ray  was  invited  to  speak  out.  He  did  so 
Without  any  explanatory  preamble. 

"  I  want  to  marry  Miss  Margery  Standish,"  he  said. 

Exton  nodded,  and,  crossing  his  right  foot  over  hi» 
left  knee,  examined  the  heel  of  his  slipper. 
260 


TJNCLE   AND   NEPHEW.  261 

"You  are  not  surprised,"  continued  Ray,  who  had 
braced  himself  for  some  outbreak.  "  I  expected  you  at 
the  very  least  to  say  she  wasn't  good  enough  for  me." 

"  In  all  probability  she  is  vastly  too  good  for  you, 
you  young  jackanapes." 

Ray  started  up,  and,  seizing  the  other's  hand,  wrung 
it  with  a  painful  grip. 

"  Slie  is  a  thousand  times  too  good !  "  he  ejaculated 
"  Bless  you  for  saying  so." 

"Nevertheless  you  aspire  to  her,"  said  the  other, 
unmoved  by  this  ebullition. 

"  And  if  grandmother  is  of  your  opinion,  I  shall 
win  her  too,"  was  the  hopeful  reply. 

"But  grandmother  isn't,"  remarked  Mr.  Exton. 

"You  know  that,  do  you?"  asked  Ray,  with  a 
frown. 

"  Only  in  a  general  way,  but  I  am  sufficiently  sure 
It  is  not  what  would  be  called  a  fitting  match,  Ray. 
Everybody  will  wonder  at  it,"  replied  Exton,  between 
the  puffs  of  his  cigar. 

"  Pshaw  ! "  exclaimed  the  other,  snapping  his  fingers 
contemptuously. 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  waste  time  in  trying  to  dis- 
suade you.  Have  you  proposed  to  her?" 

«  Yes." 

"  And  she  accepted  you  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  Ah,"  and  Exton  showed  more  interest.  "  If  shf 
Has  refused  you,  —  " 

"She  has  not,  definitely.'" 


262  NEXT  BOOK. 

"  Perhaps  I  understand.  She  knows  the  state  ol 
your  finances,  and  objects  to  such  a  long  engagement. 
Make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  Ray.  I'm  with  you  in  this 
thing,  on  one  condition,  and  that  is  that  the  young 
lady's  happiness  depends  upon  marrying  you." 

Ray  knitted  his  brows  rather  dubiously,  and 
thought  for  a  minute ;  then  he  looked  up  and  met 
the  other's  gaze  full.  "I  believe  she  loves  me,"  he 
said. 

"  Very  well,"  retm-ned  Exton,  with  a  grave  nod. 
"  Now  if  a  miracle  should  happen  and  my  mother 
should  consent  to  receive  Miss  Margery,  all  will  go 
smoothly.  You  shall  try  your  luck  of  course,  and 
when  you  fail,  as  you  will,  come  to  me.  You  go 
ahead,  and  in  proper  course  of  time  get  married.  I 
will  see  you  through  until  you  come  into  your  own." 

Ray's  face  lit  up  gratefully.  "Thank  you,  Un- 
cle John,  — "  he  hesitated. 

"Does  not  that  remove  your  obstacles?" 

"  It  ought  to ;  but  Margery  has  so  much  pride  in 
the  matter.  She  insists  that  such  a  marriage  will  be 
distasteful  to  my  family,  and  that  she  will  never  come 
into  it  unwelcome.  I  think  when  she  knows  that  you 
approve,  she  will  be  willing  to  compromise  on  that 
point ;  but  the  highest,  broadest  obstacle  of  all  is  one 
that  even  you,  I'm  afraid,  can't  remove." 

"  Well, '  a  man  can  but  do  his  best,' "  quoted  Exton, 
kindly.  "  What  is  required?" 

"  A  husband  for  Miss  Kate  Standish,"  replied  Ray 
with  a  dejected  smile. 


TJNCLS  AND  NEPHEW.  263 

Exton  looked  into  the  fire,  and  back  again  at  his 
nephew.  "What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Margery  says  she  will  never  leave  her  alone;  saya 
that  only  after  Kate  is  married  may  I  hope  for  any- 
thing from  her." 

"Well!      Those  sisters  love  each  other." 

"  I  should  think  so.  A  man  could  only  get  half  ci 
either  of  them,  I  believe,"  grumbled  Ray. 

Exton  threw  his  cigar  into  the  fire.  "Half  of 
Kate  would  be  better  than  the  whole  of  another 
woman,"  he  said,  hardly  aware  that  he  was  thinking 
aloud. 

Ray  looked  up  at  him.  "Margery,  you  mean. 
Yes,  that  is  what  I  tell  myself ;  and  once  free  from 
care  and  duty  toward  Kate,  I  think  I  could  contrive  to 
win  her  wholly." 

"Miss  Standish  has  very  strong  and  decided  ideas," 
Baid  Exton. 

"Oh,  you  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  began 
Ray,  volubly.  "  She  told  me  last  night  —  " 

"  I  am  talking  about  Miss  Kate,"  interrupted  the 
other. 

"  Oh !  oh,  yes ;  she  is  not  the  sort  of  woman,  unfor- 
tunately, to  be  married  off  easily.  Margery  thinks  a 
prince  of  the  blood  would  be  honored  by  winning 
oer." 

"  That  is  the  opinion  of  some  others,"  said  Exton. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

w  Why,  I  know  a  man  who  would  be  lifted  to  thfl 
leventh  heaven  at  the  thought  of  marrying  her." 


264  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  Uncle  John,  you're  a  trump ! "  burst  forth  hia 
nephew,  effusively.  "Give  me  his  address,  and  see  if 
I  don't  do  something  for  you  some  time." 

"  Of  course  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  replied 
Exton,  with  a  quiet  smile. 

"  Well,  then,  do  give  him  a  nudge  yourself,"  said 
Ray,  impatiently.  "What  does  he  dawdle  so  for! 
Why  don't  he  call  on  her?" 

"  She  wilt  not  allow  it." 

"  Oh,  of  course  not ;  I  forgot.  Well,  do  what  you 
can.  Keep  her  in  his  mind.  Get  him  to  talk  about 
her." 

"  He  is  willing  enough  to  talk  about  her,"  replied 
Exton.  "He  thinks  she  is  the  loveliest  creature  he 
ever  saw  in  his  life.  Her  mouth,  you  know,  is  very 
handsome,  proud,  and  sensitive." 

"  Yes ;  but  nothing  like  Margery's." 

"  And  her  hair  — " 

"  Oh,  Margery's  hair — " 

"  No,  no,  Kate's.  It  is  such  a  soft  color,  and  grows 
BO  prettily  about  her  neck  and  temples,"  and  Exton 
rose  from  his  chair  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down 
the  room. 

"  But  Margery's  has  those  red  lights  in  it,"  said  Ray, 
convincingly,  also  rising  and  walking,  passing  and  re- 
passing  his  companion  in  his  march.  "It  gives  it 
BO  much  more  life  and  character,  you  know ;  and  then 
her  eyes !  they  are  positively  on  fire  sometimes  with 
tivacity." 

"But  Kate's  have  a  steady  light,  as  clear — " 


UNCLE   AND   NEPHEW.  265 

A  double  knock  at  the  door  arrested  the  speech,  and 
j£xton  hurriedly  threw  it  open. 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  servant.  "I  knocked 
twice  because  you  didn't  seem  to  hear  me.  Mrs.  Ex- 
ton  sends  word  that  if  Mr.  Ingalls  is  still  here  she 
would  like  to  see  him." 

Exton  turned  toward  Ray.  "  Here  is  your  chance 
£  you  like  to  make  the  trial." 

"  Now  as  well  as  any  time,"  said  Ray,  starting 
toward  the  door. 

"As  I  have  some  writing  to  do,"  continued  the 
other,  "  perhaps  I  shall  not  see  you  again  to-night." 

"  Very  well ;  I  will  not  disturb  you,"  returned 
Ray,  holding  out  his  hand.  "  And  say,  Uncle  John, 
keep  after  that  love-sick  swain.  My  happiness  hangs 
on  it." 

"  No  matter  about  his,  I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  his  will  be  all  right  of  course.  He  is  evidently 
blind  and  imbecile  not  to  have  fallen  in  love  with  Mar- 
gery.  Thank  heaven  the  world  is  full  of  blind  men, 
though." 

Exton  laughed  and  closed  the  door,  and  Ray,  ob- 
tuse to  everything  but  his  absorbing  hopes,  ran  up  staira 
.two  steps  at  a  time  to  his  grandmother's  room.  He 
paused  on  the  threshold. 

"  Come  in,  dear,"  said  the  complaining  voice.  "  Too 
bad  I  could  not  have  come  down  to  dinner  with  you. 
.  [  was  down  last  night  and  the  night  before,  but  that  is 
the  way  things  happen." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  find  you  suffering,"  said  Ray,  sitting 


266  NEXT   DOOR. 

down  beside  the  couch,  and  taking  the  wrinkled  hand 
in  his. 

"Thank  you;  how  have  things  gone  with  you 
lately?" 

"  Oh,  up  and  down,  grandmother."  Ray  knew  how 
quickly  the  old  lady  would  weary,  and  that  every 
moment  was  precious.  "  The  fact  is,  I  have  been  fall- 
ing in  love." 

"Well,  that  is  a  harmless  amusement,"  said  the 
other,  with  a  wan  smile.  "All  boys  do  it." 

"  I  haven't  gone  into  it  as  an  amusement ;  I  am  in 
earnest.  I  have  proposed  to  the  young  lady." 

Mrs.  Exton  cried  out.  "  My  dear  child,  you  shock 
me  !  You  are  not  engaged  ?  " 

"  No ;  the  young  lady  insists  upon  waiting  for  your 
sanction  and  welcome." 

"  A  great  point  in  her  favor,  surely.  Who  is  she  ? 
You  have  been  wise,  I  hope,  Ray.  You  have  not  for- 
gotten who  you  are." 

"  She  is  an  orphan ;  the  sister  of  the  young 
lady  you  admire  so  much.  Her  name  is  Margery 
Standish." 

Mrs.  Exton  looked  at  him  in  silence,  and  drew  away 
her  hand. 

"  If  you  knew  her,  grandmother,"  he  began,  eagerly 

"I  shall  never  know  her,"  she  said,  firmly.  "Sh< 
was  sensible  enough  to  realize  that,  and  in  the  cours« 
&f  three  years,  Ray,  many  things  may  happen." 

"Nothing  will  ever  change  me,"  he  returned,  quitt 
|uiet  now  that  he  saw  the  sick  woman's  obduracy. 


UNCLE   AND   NEPHEW.  267 

"If  I  live  so  long,"  said  the  latter,  "I  will  do  mj 
best  to  keep  you  from  making  such  a  fatal  mistake." 

"  You  may  live  to  believe  it  a  wise  step." 

"You  are  determined  to  marry  her,  without  money, 
without  the  approval  of  your  friends  !  " 

"  If  she  will  have  me,"  returned  Ray,  thinking  best 
not  to  bring  his  uncle's  name  into  the  affair ;  "  but 
that  is  not  yet  certain.  She  is  unwilling  to  leave  her 
sister  alone." 

The  indignant  expression  slowly  died  out  of  the 
invalid's  eyes.  "  Her  sister  is  loyal  to  her  also,"  she 
s*nd,  musingly.  "I  wonder  —  "  then  she  paused. 

Ray  was  silent,  waiting  he  knew  not  for  what. 

"You  know  I  wanted  Kate  Standish  to  live  with 
me.  She  refused  on  the  score  of  having  to  remain 
with  her  sister.  I  wonder  now  if — "  she  hesitated, 
aid  R#y  eagerly  filled  up  the  blank. 

"The  very  thing,"  he  said.  "Give  your  consent 
and  make  us  happy  all  around." 

"  Do  you  not  see,  Ray,  it  would  be  impossible  foi 
my  companion  to  be  the  sister  of  your  wife.  You 
would  have  to  move  away  from  Boston." 

"I  would  go  abroad  for  a  year.  I  promise  you  so 
much." 

Mrs.  Exton  shook  her  head  impatiently.  "  It  would 
have  to  amount  to  a  separation  between  us  as  to  social 
relations." 

"  I  think  you  are  borrowing  a  good  deal  of  trouble," 
laid  Ray,  inwardly  marvelling  at  the  strong  tenure 
upon  empty  forms  held  by  this  frail  creature,  whose 


268  NEXT   DOOR. 

earthly  course  must  be  limited  to  a  few  years  at  most 
"  Better  leave  all  that  for  the  future  to  decide." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Exton,  upon  whom  the  old  idea 
had  returned  with  renewed  strength,  "  then  I  consent 
to  your  marriage,  and  will  make  over  to  you  at  least  a 
part  of  your  property,  on  condition  that  Miss  Stan- 
dish  gives  up  her  teaching  and  comes  here  to  live  with 
toe." 

Ray  was  radiant.  It  looked  to  his  pre-occupied 
mind  a  delightful  way  to  dispose  of  Kate.  It  caused 
every  obstacle  to  his  happiness  to  melt  away  like  dew 
before  the  sun. 

"  Thank  you,  grandmother,"  he  said,  and  kissed  her 
cheek  gently.  "Will  you  not  send  your  love  to  Mar- 
gery ?  "  he  added,  rising.  "  She  will  be  obdurate  with- 
out a  word  of  welcome." 

"  Yes,  give  her  my  love,"  sighed  the  sick  woman. 
*  After  all,  it  is  well  to  marry  early.  Do  not  bring  her 
to  see  me,  at  least  not  until  I  send.  I  am  not  able. 
And  say  nothing  of  this  talk  to  your  uncle.  I  have 
good  reasons  for  wishing  it.  Be  sure  to  remember, 
Good  night,  Ray." 

The  next  day  at  dinner  was  the  time  Aunt  Ann  had 
set  to  break  the  news  to  her  family  that  she  had  de- 
cided to  return  home  in  May.  The  expressions  of 
regret  thus  elicited  were  so  kind  and  heartfelt  as  to 
cause  her  surprise  and  gratification. 

"I  was  intending,"  Mr.  Wiley  said,  "to  see  to-daj 
if  we  could  not  prolong  our  lease." 

Ray  shook  his  head.      "  I  promised  Aunt  Ann  tha! 


UNCLE   AND   NEPHEW.  269 

tf  she  became  tired  of  us  she  should  go  back  in  the 
spring." 

"  I  am  not  tired  of  you  at  all,"  observed  Aunt  Ann. 
"  You  have  all  been  very  kind,  and  made  me  very 
happy  here ;  but  I  must  go  home  now  and  see  ho\r 
things  are  going.  You  will  all  be  having  your  vaca- 
tions along  through  the  summer  —  " 

"  And  we  shall  all  want  to  come  to  Cedarville,"  in- 
terrupted Mr.  Sharp. 

"I'm  going  to  take  a  couple  of  summer  boarders," 
remarked  Aunt  Ann,  with  a  happy  little  smile.  "  My 
two  nieces." 

She  wondered  that  this  bit  of  news  elicited  no  ques- 
tion or  comment  from  Ray.  He  seemed,  however, 
in  high  spirits ;  and  when  dinner  was  over,  and  Aunt 
Ann's  preparations  for  breakfast  made,  she  found  him 
alone  in  the  parlor,  pacing  restlessly  up  and  down, 
and  waiting  for  her.  He  came  toward  her  with  out- 
Btretched  hands  and  a  joyful  gleam  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  have  proposed  to  Margery  !  "  he  exclaimed,  softly. 

"Law!"  ejaculated  Aunt  Ann,  giving  his  hands  a 
convulsive  shake. 

"  She  feared  the  coldness  of  my  family,  and  also  to 
leave  Kate.  Last  night  I  dined  with  Uncle  John. 
He  will  welcome  her  cordially,  and  even  grandmother 
Bent  her  love  to  her,  and  gives  her  full  consent  pro- 
vided Kate  will  come  and  live  with  her." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Aunt  Ann,  in  long-drawn  ejaculation, 
falling  from  rapture  to  doubt.  "  I  don't  know  as  that'll 
iLo,  Ray.  You  know  Kate  has  refused  to  do  that." 


270  NEXT  DOOR. 

"But  for  Margery's  sake,  was  it  not?  When  she 
knows  that  Margery  will  be  provided  for,  won't  it  be 
quite  different  ?  " 

"  It  may.  It  would  be  a  nice  home  for  the  child  " 
returned  Aunt  Ann,  "  if  only  your  grandma  will  be 
fond  of  her." 

"  She  is  fond  of  her.  I  never  knew  her  so  fond  of 
anybody,"  averred  Ray,  fully  persuaded  that  he  spoke 
the  truth.  "  And  what  I  want  you  to  do,  Aunt  Ann, 
is  to  go  in  there  with  me  to-night,  and,  if  the  coast  is 
clear,  send  Margery  down  into  the  parlor  and  let  me 
tell  her  the  good  news." 

"  Take  my  advice,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  astutely,  "  and 
Bee  Kate  first.  First  get  on  the  right  side  of  Kate 
and  then  you  are  all  right.  I've  seen  the  girls  to-day ; 
funny  they  didn't  let  out  a  word  of  this." 

"  Well,"  replied  Ray,  quickly,  "  perhaps  you're 
right.  It  will  be  more  above  board  to  have  a  talk 
with  Kate.  I  dare  say  Margery  would  be  better 
pleased." 

"  Depend  upon  it,"  replied  the  other. 

"Then  here  goes,"  said  Ray.  "Wish  me  well,  Aunl 
Ann." 

•'I  do,  indeed,  dear.  Margery  is  a  precious  child. 
If  you  win  her,  you  will  have  a  treasure." 

"  Sometimes  I  question  whether  she  is  a  mortal  cf 
a  will-o'-the-wisp,"  he  said,  as  he  took  his  hat.  "  Here 
3  one  more  effort  toward  finding  out,  anyway." 

Going  out  the  door,  he  stepped  over  the  railing  and 
rang  the  bell  of  the  next  house,  smiling  as  he  did  so* 


UNCLE   AND   NEPHEW.  271 

to  think  how  accessible  and  yet  difficult  of  reach  it 
had  always  been  to  him. 

He  gave  his  card  to  the  servant  and  was  shown  into 
the  dim  parlor. 

"  I  want  to  see  Miss  Kate  Standish,"  he  said ;  and 
Betty  a  minute  later  repeated  the  message  and  gave 
the  card  at  the  girls'  door. 

Kate  and  Margery  put  their  heads  together  over  it, 
Margery  blushing  and  looking  anxious,  and  Kate  bit- 
ing her  lip  with  a  puzzled  air. 

"I  suppose  we  shall  have  to  let  him  call  on  you 
once,  as  iong  as  you  went  with  him  to  the  concert," 
said  the  latter. 

"  Not  necessary  at  all,"  replied  Margery,  brusquely. 
**  It  is  not  as  though  I  were  a  society  girl." 

The  novelty  of  such  a  speech  from,  her  did  not 
strike  Kate  in  her  pre-occupation. 

"But  he  asked  for  me.  How  strange!"  she  said. 
"I  think  he  is  an  artful  youth,"  she  added,  shaking 
her  head,  **  and  wishes  to  break  the  ice  thoroughly. 
I  may  as  well  let  him  understand  that  my  mind  has 
not  changed.  Tell  him,"  she  added  to  the  servant, 
"  that  I  am  engaged  and  would  like  to  be  excused." 

When  Betty  gave  this  message,  Ray  looked  momen- 
tarily nonplussed. 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  up  once  more,"  he  said  then, 
u  ?  nd  tell  Miss  Standish  that  my  errand  is  important." 

The  girl  obediently  returned,  mentally  rating  Miss 
btandish's  taste  very  low.  The  idea  of  refusing  to 
lee  such  a  tall,  fine  young  gentleman  as  the  caller' 


272  NEXT   DOOR. 

Upon  hearing  the  second  message,  Margery's  anxi 
ety  increased. 

u  Well,"  said  Kate,  hesitating,  "  I  suppose  I  must 
go  down." 

"Do  not,"  begged  her  sister,  with  surprising  ear- 
neatness.  "Refuse  again,  Kate.  Do,  dear.  Don't 
go  down." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  the  other,  suspiciously. 

"Well,"  said  Margery,  with  a  sudden,  almost 
gloomy  change  of  manner,  "  go  if  you  like ;  but 
remember  I  asked  you  not  to." 

"Yovi  frighten  me,  Margery,"  said  Kate,  in  her 
quick,  forceful  Avay,  and  immediately  left  the  room. 

She  found  Ray  standing,  as  once  before,  \mconifort> 
ably,  in  the  dingy  room,  and,  hurrying  toward  him, 
gave  him  her  hand. 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Standish,"  he  said,  respectfully, 
"for  seeing  me.  I  am  fortunate  to  find  this  room 
empty,  because  I  wished  very  much  to  speak  with  you 
in  private." 

They  both  sat  down,  Kate  never  removing  her 
targe,  questioning  eyes  from  his  face. 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  your  sister  has  told  you." 
He  paused  interrogatively. 

"  She  has  told  me  nothing." 

"  I  have  asked  her  to  marry  me,"  said  Ray,  simply. 

Kate  started  and  drew  back  from  him  involuntarily. 
\  hundred  incidents  thronged  into  her  mind  and 
explained  themselves  in  the  white  light  of  this  knowl 
edge. 


UNCLE  AND   NEPHEW.  273 

**I  am  here  neither  refused  nor  accepte^  until  you 
ieci.le." 

" Did  she  leave  it  to  me?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  Not  exactly ;  but  she  stated  some  obstacles  to  our 
marriage,  which  I  am  removing.  One  was  the  dis- 
favor of  my  family." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Kate,  with  breathless  eagerness. 

"  Which  proved  a  mere  man  of  straw,"  added  Ray, 
waving  his  hand.  "  I  have  the  cordial  approval  of  my 
uncle,  and  my  grandmother  sends  her  love  to  Mar- 
gery, with  full  consent  to  our  marriage,  on  a  condition 
which,  if  it  proves  agreeable  to  you,  will  remove  aU 
your  sister's  objections." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Margery  firmly  refused  to  leave  you  alone." 

"And  Mrs.  Exton's  condition?"  asked  Kate,  grow- 
ing very  pale. 

"  Is  that  you  should  make  your  home  with  her." 

Kate  half  rose  from  her  chair,  with  a  wild  instinct 
of  flight,  then  sank  back.  "Neither  of  us  would  want 
to  be  selfish  ;  neither  of  us  would  wish  to  stand  in  the 
way  of  the  other's  happiness."  She  had  not  paid 
much  attention  to  Margery  when  she  said  this;  but 
now  the  words  came  back  to  her  vividly,  with  an 
accompanying  understanding  of  her  sister's  thoughts. 
"  Wait,  Mr.  Ingalls,"  she  said,  faintly,  for  Ray  had 
jumped  up  with  the  vague  idea  of  ringing  a  bell  and 
getting  some  water.  "I  am  not  ill.  Wait  one  minute 
while  I  think." 

Ray  seated  himself,  watching  her,  half  puzzled,  half 


274  NEXT   BOOK. 

remorseful.     He  supposed  it  was  the  thought  of  part 
ing  with  Margery  that  had  so  agitated  her. 

"  That  is  the  only  condition  on  which  Mrs.  Exton 
consents?"  she  said,  after  a  moment. 

"Yes.  Her  feeling  would  not  be  of  particulai 
importance  to  me  but  that  she  holds  my  property 
until  I  am  twenty-five." 

"  Ah !  "  Kate  thought  fast.  On  one  side  was  her 
freedom  and  Margery's  sacrifice.  On  the  other,  a 
weary,  confining  routine,  and  the  unspeakable  trial  of 
being  under  the  same  roof  with  John  Exton  —  at  the 
latter  thought  she  lowered  her  head  as  though  a  physi- 
cal burden  had  descended  upon  it ;  but  on  that  side, 
too,  lay  Margery's  happiness.  Dear  little  Margery, 
kept  so  long  on  prison  fare  and  now  beckoned  into  a 
life  in  all  ways  congenial,  with  the  man  she  loved ! 
Slowly  Kate  lifted  her  head,  breathing  a  deep  and 
uncontrollable  sigh. 

"  I  will  do  it,"  she  said,  meeting  Ray  with  her  quiet 
gaze ;  "  but  be  careful  not  to  speak  of  it  to  Margery." 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Standish,"  he  exclaimed,  fer- 
vently. "  I  will  make  her  as  happy  as  I  can,  believe 
me." 

"Do  you  understand ? "  she  said,  unheeding  him, 
"Margery  must  know  nothing  of  this  condition." 

"I  understand,"  he  replied,  nodding  with  joyful 
alacrity.  "She  had  better  believe  her  welcome  to  be 
unhampered  by  conditions.  When  may  I  see  her?" 

"  Whenever  she  likes,  after  to-night."     Kate 
and  Ray  followed  her  example. 


UNCLE  AND   NEPHEW.  275 

**  T  am  afraid  you  will  find  it  hard  to  forgive  me," 
fre  said,  triumphant  happiness  in  his  eyes. 

"  A  little  —  at  first,"  she  replied,  with  a  brave  at- 
tempt at  an  answering  smile.  "You  know  we  — "  a 
Bob  rose  in  her  throat  and  choked  her  utterance  ;  and, 
although  she  still  looked  at  him,  she  saw  nothing  for 
tears. 

He  pressed  her  hand,  and  departed  with  merciful 
promptness. 

Kate  stood  still  a  minute,  resolutely  battling  for 
her  self-control.  She  pressed  her  handkerchief  lightly 
to  her  eyes,  and  opened  a  book  on  the  discolored 
marble  table.  It  was  a  copy  of  Scott's  poems,  in  dis- 
tressingly fine  print.  She  opened  to  Marmion  and 
read  a  few  lines  at  random.  Then  she  moved  out 
into  the  hall  and  started  up  stairs.  When  she  reached 
the  top  the  rebellious  tears  had  overflowed  again,  and 
ehe  stole  lightly  down  half  way,  and  stood  there  dry- 
ing them,  and  breathing  a  little  prayer  for  strength. 
A  second  time  she  ascended  and  hurried  down  the 
narrow  hall  and  into  the  room.  Margery  was  sitting 
there  idle,  and  evidently  expectant.  She  looked  up, 
and  saw  Kate  standing,  an  arch  expression  in  her  eyes, 
and  a  tender  smile  on  her  lips ;  so  beautiful  and  loy^ 
ing,  that  Margery,  in  her  relief,  and  love,  and  remorse, 
started  up,  and  flung  her  arms  around  her  neck  :  — 

"  Oh,  Kate,  I  couldn't  help  it ! "  she  exclaimed,  and 
burst  into  a  passion  of  sobs. 

Kate  held  and  soothed  her,  her  own  shining  'eyei 
looking  over  her  sister's  bowed  head,  away  into  spacer 


876  NEXT  DOOR. 

"  But  you  know  I  wouldn't  leave  you  for  anything 
You  know  it,  don't  you,  Kate  ?  You  know  I  never 
thought  of  it  for  an  instant,"  she  said,  brokenly,  aa 
Boon  as  she  could  speak. 

"  What  great  nonsense,  dear ! "  returned  the  other, 
cheerfully.  "  Of  course  you  won't  leave  me ;  at  least, 
not  for  very  long  at  a  time.  I  should  not  think  of 
allowing  it.  Ray  is  going  to  have  a  case  of  sister-in- 
law  which  will  far  outdo  all  the  proverbial  mothers-in- 
Jaw.  Who  knows  but  what  it  will  mercifully  start  a 
Hew  subject  for  newspaper  ridicule  ?  " 

"  But  I  am  not  going  to  marry  him,"  said  Margery, 
holding  her  sister  off  by  both  arms,  and  facing  her 
expectantly. 

"  Yes,  you  are,  dear ;  it  is  all  right.  They  all  want 
you — Uncle  John,  and  grandmother,  and  everybody. 
That  is  what  Ray  came  in  to  tell  me." 

The  color  spread  over  Margery's  face  and  throat. 
"  Oh,  I  can't  leave  you,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice  that 
trembled  ;  but  not,  Kate  felt,  at  the  prospect  of  the 
coming  separation. 

"Do  not  speak  of  that  any  more.  It  is  crossing 
such  nn  unnecessary  bridge.  Think  rather  of  how 
many  pleasures  you  and  Ray  will  give  me." 

"  But  how  wonderful  that  they  are  willing,  Kate,  — 
the  Extons." 

"  They  have  much  better  taste  than  I  supposed,' 
answered  the  other. 

Margery  hid  her  face  again  in  her  sister's  neck 
*Oh,"  she  whispered,  "  it  is  too  good  to  be  true," 


UNCLE   AND  NEPHEW.  277 

"  It  is  not  too  good  for  you,  my  darling,"  murmured 
Kate.  "  Nothing  could  be  too  good  for  my  little 
Bister." 

But  long  after  Margery  had  fallen  into  a  happy 
slumber,  Kate  lay  with  fixed,  sleepless  eyes,  looking 
into  her  own  future,  re-adjusting  every  thought 
hope,  and  summoning  courage  to  meet  it. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

KATE'S  DIPLOMACY. 

*I  AM  going  to  tell  Aunt  Ann  about  it,"  she  an« 
pounced  brightly  to  Margery,  the  following  morning. 
"Do  you  remember  when  we  were  children  how 
anxious  each  of  us  was  to  be  the  first  to  tell  a  bit  of 
news?  We  were  always  saying,  'I  choose  to  tell'  this 
or  that.  Very  well,  I  choose  to  tell  Aunt  Ann." 

Margery  laughed.  "  I  hope  you  will  find  it  is  news 
to  her;  but  I  imagine  Ray  has  confided  in  her.  She 
has  tried  to  be  very  wise  and  cautious;  but  she  has 
said  enough  lately  to  make  me  suspect  that  he  has 
been  working  on  her  sympathies." 

A  note  was  handed  Margery  as  she  was  leaving  the 
breakfast  table.  It  said, — 

Will  you  take  a  walk  with  me  this  evening. 

RAT. 

Margery's  answer  was  biief  enough  to  be  the  soul  of 
«vit.  It  was,  — 

Yes.  MARGEKY. 

To-night  would  settle  it,  Kate  knew,  and  it  must  be 
the  business  of  the  leisure  hours  of  her  day  to  stop 
np  every  loophole  through  which  Margery's  happinesn 
toight  escape. 

278 


KATE'S  DIPLOMACY.  279 

She  went  first  to  the  next  house.  Aunt  Ann  was 
Surprised  to  receive  so  rare  a  visitor  so  early  in  the 
morning;  but  she  shook  her  head  as  she  greeted  Kate. 
"My  dear,  you  find  me  in  trouble,"  she  said.  "Kits 
has  been  fighting.  Such  a  terrible  noise  as  I  heard 
in  the  night,  but  I  little  thought  Kits  was  in  it  until 
this  morning  when  he  came  in  looking  worse  than 
any  tramp,  his  necktie  torn  off  of  him,  his  eye 
all  closed  up.  Oh !  It's  time  we  were  off  to  the 
country.  Kits  has  got  into  bad  company.  I've 
talked  to  him  and  shut  him  up,  and  I  hope  he 
feels  as  bad  as  he  looks.  Well,  dear,  what's  brought 
you  so  early.  I  can't  flatter  myself  you've  only  come 
to  visit  me." 

"That  is  all.  When  an  event  of  importance  occurs 
in  the  family  it  has  to  be  talked  over,"  said  Kate.  "  I 
have  only  come  to  talk  it  over." 

"Ray  and  Margery,"  ejaculated  Aunt  Ann,  out  of 
whose  head  Kits'  misdemeanors  had  driven  this  ro- 
mance. "Of  course.  I  can  see  by  your  face  that  it 
is  all  right.  It  is  a  good  match  for  Margery,  I  think. 
I  am  as  pleased  as  a  child  over  it.  I  didn't  quite  know 
how  you'd  take  it,  though,  about  living  with  the  old 
lady.  I'd  have  liked  first-rate  to  have  had  you  come 
right  with  me  and  kept  you  always,  only  Cedarville  is 
no  place  for  you." 

"  Yes-  it  is,"  replied  Kate,  wistfully,  the  cheerful 
light  less  bright  in  her  face.  "With  —  without  Mar- 
gery to  work  for,"  she  added,  with  an  effort,  "  I  think 
my  ambition  would  have  oozed  out  and  nothing  would 


,280  NEXT   DOOR. 

have  pleased  me  so  well  as  to  creep  off  into  the  country 
with  you.  But  that  is  not  to  be." 

"  No,  and  a  very  good  thing  too,"  said  Aunt 
Ann,  earnestly;  "there's  no  field  there  for  you. 
You  will  stay  in  the  city  and  be  both  useful  and 
ornamental." 

"  Yes,  in  Mrs.  Exton's  sick-room.  "Well,  that  is 
settled ;  only  I  think,  Aunt  Ann,  if  Margery  knew  it, 
it  would  —  that  plan  might  annoy  her." 

"Why,  no,  child.  She  would  be  glad  you  would 
have  such  a  good  safe  home  until  such  a  time  as  you 
got  married  yourself." 

"  I  do  not  think  she  would  look  at  it  in  that  way, 
and  then,  don't  you  see,  she  must  not  think  that  Mrs. 
Exton  will  only  receive  her  on  a  condition.  You  see 
that?" 

"  Surely,  I  didn't  think  of  that." 

"  So  you  will  be  very  careful  not  to  say  anything 
about  my  prospect  of  living  with  Mrs.  Exton  ? "  per- 
sisted Kate. 

"  Yes,  I  will.  I'm  glad  you  spoke  of  it.  Don't  you 
go  to  forgetting  your  poor  relations  when  you  come  to 
be  the  young  lady  of  that  fine  house,"  said  Aunt  Ann, 
jocosely.  "Mrs.  Exton  is  so  fond  of  you  that  little  by 
little  you'll  come  to  be  the  head.  I  see  all  how  it's 
going  to  be." 

"  Lend  me  your  spectacles,"  said  Kate,  rising  to  go. 

"  Oh,  sit  down,  child.  There  is  so  much  I  want  to 
ask  you  about  Margery  nnd  Ray.  You  see  I've  beea 
inspecting  this  thing  a  good  while." 


KATE'S  DIPLOMACY  281 

"  I  cannot  wait,  Aunt  Ann.  This  is  a  busy  day  with 
ine,  and  I  must  hurry." 

"  I  hope  this  new  arrangement  isn't  going  to  cheat 
me  out  of  my  visit  from  you  girls  this  summer." 

"  I  hope  not ;  but  as  yet  nothing  is  settled. 
We  shall  know  in  a  few  days  whether  plans  must 
be  much  changed.  Good-bye,"  and  Kate  took  her 
leave. 

The  smiling  and  matter-of-fact  manner  which  had 
served  her  through  that  interview  would  not  be  needed 
during  the  next  visit.  Kate's  face  when  she  rang  the 

~  O 

bell  of  the  Extons'  house  was  not  a  mask,  and  it  did 
not  put  on  so  much  as  a  smile  when  she  was  ushered 
into  Mrs.  Exton's  sitting-room,  where  the  old  lady  was 
leaning  back  in  her  arm-chair,  enjoying  the  morning 
sunlight,  and  looking  at  a  newspaper,  while  a  breakfast 
tray  stood  by  her  elbow. 

She  dropped  the  paper  and  held  out  her  hand  to  the 
girl  graciously.  "  How  fortunate  that  you  should 
come  this  morning,"  she  said.  "  This  is  an  unusually 
good  day  with  me.  I  believe  I  have  entered  upon 
another  respite  from  suffering,  and  may  hope  to  go 
about  a  little  again.  It  is  mournful  business,  nursing 
one's  self,  Miss  Standish." 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  better,"  said  Kate,  seating  her- 
self, after  taking  the  languid  hand.  "I  should  have 
been  sorry  to  find  you  unable  to  talk,  for  I  want  to  ask 
you  what  it  is  that  you  wish  me  to  do." 

Mrs.  Exton  colored  under  her  visitor's  tone  and 
manner.  She  was  accustomed  to  much  petting  and 


282  NEXT    DOOR. 

adulation  from  such  feminine  callers  as  she  saw  fit  to 
receive.  Who  was  Kate  that  she  should  not  be  moved 
to  tenderness  and  admiration  by  the  sight  of  the  inva- 
lid's soft  white  curls,  and  the  light  blue  ribbons  of  her 
white  flannel  wrapper?  It  was  hard,  cruel,  in  the  girl 
to  let  her  hostess  see  that  she  felt  herself  a  victim  of 
selfishness.  Mrs.  Exton  hardly  knew  how  to  meet 
such  indelicacy.  As  there  ensued  a  pause  of  several 
seconds'  duration,  Kate  continued,  — 

"Mr.  Ingalls  understood  that  you  gave  your  consent 
to  his  marriage  with  my  sister  only  on  condition  that 
I  abandoned  my  work  and  came  here  to  devote  my 
time  to  you."  Kate's  tone  was  neither  angry  nor  spite- 
ful, but  it  smote  her  listener  with  the  first  sensation 
of  shame  which  had  assailed  her  for  many  a  year. 
"Was  he  right?" 

"You  choose  to  put  it  in  a  very  disagreeable  manner, 
Miss  Standish.  Of  course  such  a  change  of  plan  must 
not  occur  against  your  will,"  returned  the  invalid, 
firmly  entrenching  herself,  after  the  momentary  abase- 
ment, behind  the  bulwark  of  her  pride. 

"  You  know  it  is  against  my  will,"  burst  forth  Kate, 
impulsively. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?  You  pretended  that  your 
sister  was  the  obstacle  to  your  coming.  If  that  was 
simply  pretence,  say  so,  and  leave  me.  After  all  that 
has  occurred  between  us,  one  of  two  things  must 
happen :  you  must  accept  the  offer  which  I  have  gone 
out  of  my  way  to  urge  upon  you,  and  which  is  the 
best  you  will  ever  receive  from  anybody ;  or  else  you 


KATE'S   DIPLOMACY.  233 

must  refuse  it  once  for  all,  and  never  come  here  to  ex- 
cite and  worry  me  again." 

Kate's  lips  parted  eagerly.  Oh,  the  glorious  thought 
of  escape  !  "  And  Margery  ?  "  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Exton  waved  her  hand,  and  the  hard  look  which 
Kate  had  already  learned  stole  over  her  face.  "  I  have 
nothing  to  do  with  Miss  Margery,"  she  answered,  with 
slighting  coldness. 

The  color  flamed  into  the  girl's  face  and  receded  as 
suddenly.  It  required  all  her  strong  love  for  her  sister 
to  hold  back  the  torrent  of  protest  and  reproach  that 
sprung  from  her  beating  heart.  She  kept  silence  a 
moment,  then :  — 

"  I  see,"  she  said  quietly,  although  there  was  a  trem- 
bling in  her  voice.  "  You  have  calculated  on  my  wil- 
lingness to  promote  Margery's  happiness,  and  you  were 
right.  I  said,  you  know,  when  I  came  in,  that  I  wanted 
to  understand  just  what  you  wished  of  me.  My  mind 
is  made  up  to  accept  your  condi  —  your  offer." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad,  I  am  sure,"  responded  the  other, 
with  a  bow  of  languid  condescension.  "  I  have  no 
doubt  that  we  shall  get  on  most  excellently  together. 
Of  course  you  will  have  to  finish  your  term  of  teach- 
fog," 

"  Certainly.  Of  course,  too,  I  shall  have  to  get 
Margery  ready  to  be  married.  I  cannot  leave  her 
until  after  her  wedding."  Kate  bit  her  lip  sharply  to 
make  certain  that  the  whole  was  not  a  dream.  The 
.dea  of  talking  thus  calmly  with  Mrs.  Exton  about 
S^nrgery's  wedding! 


284  NEXT  DOOR. 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  meditatively.  "Of  course 
that  is  only  right.  I  have  thought  of  a  plan  —  but  I 
will  not  speak  of  it  now,  it  may  not  be  feasible.  I 
think  the  wedding  had  better  be  in  the  early  fall,"  she 
added,  dispassionately,  "so  you  can  get  settled  com- 
fortably here  for  the  winter,  and  also  that  the  young 
people  may  take  their  voyage  at  a  pleasant  season." 

"What  voyage?"  asked  Kate,  mechanically. 

"  I  think  they  will  go  abroad  for  a  year  or  more." 

"Who?" 

"Why,  the  bride  and  groom,"  returned  Mrs.  Exton, 
with  some  impatience.  "  Ray  wishes  it,  and  I  approve 
strongly." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Kate.  So  they  had  been  talking  it  over. 
Others  had  now  the  right  to  plan  for  Margery.  They 
were  going  to  take  her  away  across  the  sea  for  an  in- 
definite time.  It  was  all  so  sudden  and  she  was  so 
helpless.  She  looked  at  Mrs.  Exton.  That  querulous, 
pale  face,  with  its  anxious  lines,  was  to  be  her  constant 
companion  now  instead  of  Margery's,  loving,  hopeful, 
young,  the  sunshine  of  Kate's  life.  She  rose  suddenly 
in  the  unendurable  stress  of  feeling. 

"I  —  my  morning  is  full  of  engagements,"  she  said, 
recovering  herself.  "  I  must  go." 

Mrs.  Exton  gave  her  a  thin,  faint  smile.  "  Come 
and  see  me  again  when  you  can.  We  have  not  made 
our  business  arrangements  yet." 

"  Oh,  plenty  of  time  for  that,"  replied  Kate,  hur. 
riedly.  "  Mrs.  Exton,"  she  added,  suddenly  bethink. 
ing  herself,  "  I  do  not  want  Margery  to  know  that  1 


KATE'S  DIPLOMACY.  285 

propose  coming  here.  I  have  reasons ;  I  cannot  tell  — ," 
ghe  hesitated. 

"You  need  fear  nothing  from  me,"  returned  the 
other,  a  trifle  disdainfully. 

"I  thought  perhaps  your  son,  —  "  suggested  Kate. 

"  He  knows  nothing  of  it,"  said  the  old  lady,  shortly, 
"  and  I  have  no  intention  of  discussing  the  subject 
with  him.  My  son's  home  is  very  dear  to  him,  Misa 
Stundish.  You  will  not  misunderstand  me  when  I  sny 
that  the  thought  of  a  stranger  entering  our  circle  has 
always  been  an  unpleasant  one  to  him.  I  only  men- 
tion it  to  make  the  more  emphatic  my  gratitude  at 
having  found  a  person  like  yourself  who  will  always 
know  of  her  own  intuition  when,  and  when  not,  to  be 
one  of  us." 

Kate  stood,  tall  and  pale,  her  eyes  cast  down. 
When  her  companion  finished  speaking,  she  looked  up. 
"Thank  you  for  your  confidence,"  she  said,  with  a 
little  bitter-sweet  smile.  "I  trust  if  I  should  evet 
abuse  it  you  will  feel  at  liberty  to  recall  me  to  a  sense 
of  my  position." 

Mrs.  Exton  looked  with  some  doubt  at  the  door 
when  her  visitor  had  closed  it  after  her,  and  pondered 
over  the  interview. 

For  Kate,  she  felt  the  beating  of  pulses  in  her  head 
as  she  ran  down  the  stone  steps  into  the  street.  "  Oh, 
Margery,"  she  thought,  "my  darling  Margery!  Is 
Uiere  any  doubt  that  I  love  yea?" 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

IN  THE  COUNTRY. 

IT  was  the  end  of  June.  The  blue  sky  that  shoae 
above  Berkshire  Street  seemed  to  speak  to  Kate  of 
other  scenes,  more  congenial,,  upon  which  it  was 
smiling.  Brick  blocks  and  cobble-stones  grew  weari- 
some. She  wanted  the  country,  and  green  grass,  and 
the  song  of  the  wild  bird,  and  —  Margery.  She  had 
an  idea  that  if  she  could  carry  Margery  off  to  Cedar- 
ville,  to  a  Paradise  into  which  the  serpent,  alias  Ray 
Ingalls,  could  not  penetrate  every  evening  in  the 
week,  she  might  have  one  more  little  season  of  happy 
companionship  with  her  before  the  final  wrench  of 
separation. 

Aunt  Ann  had  gone  weeks  before,  quite  disap- 
pointed to  leave  Margery  behind,  but  the  girl  was 
frank  in  her  preference  for  pavements  over  green 
fields,  under  existing  circumstances,  and  flatly  refused 
to  leave  Boston  until  Kate's  engagements  were  over. 
There  was  an  end  of  Margery's  protestations  against 
dulness,  against  poverty,  against  Mrs.  Brown's  back 
room  and  Mrs.  Brown's  table.  The  world  had 
suddenly  righted  itself,  and  was  whirling  her  on  day 

286 


IN   THE   COUNTRY.  287 

by  day  to  great  and  greater  happiness.  Mr.  Exton 
had  been  in  the  West  on  business  for  several  weeks, 
and  Ray  lived  at  the  house  on  Beacon  Street,  whence 
he  descended  every  evening  to  the  vicinity  of  his  old 
home,  and  rang  the  bell  of  the  once  proscribed  house, 
with  the  assurance  of  a  welcome  visitor. 

Such  lists  of  things  to  buy  and  to  make  as  Kate 
and  Margery  discussed !  Such  piles  of  work  as  lay 
eut  out  in  that  little  back  room !  But  Margery  was  a 
witch  with  her  needle  and  her  sewing-machine,  and 
the  taste  and  judgment  of  both  girls  were  sensible,  so 
the  preparations  for  the  simple  trousseau  were  made 
smoothly  and  swiftly.  The  time  was  drawing  near 
when  they  were  to  leave  for' Cedarville. 

"You  know,  Margery,"  said  Kate,  one  day,  trying 
to  console  her  sister  for  the  coming  parting,  "  it  will 
be  such  a  nice  place  to  accomplish  our  sewing,  so  quiet 
and  free  from  interruption.  You  will  not  miss  Ray 
nearly  so  much  as  you  fear,  I  am  sure." 

Margery  shook  her  head.  "No,  indeed,  that  is  all 
right,"  she  returned,  "  Ray  finds  he  can  spend  his 
two  weeks'  vacation  down  there  with  us.  Didn't  I 
tell  you?  I  must  have  forgotten." 

Kate's  countenance  fell.  "Oh,  can  he?"  she  said, 
trying  not  to  let  her  disappointment  be  patent.  Mar- 
gery frequently  forgot  to  mention  things  to  her  .of 
uite.  The  new  confidant  eclipsed  the  old  ;  but  Kate 
bore  it  all  with  wondrous  patience  and  docility. 
Would  any  happiness  suffice  her  if  Margery  were  not 
eontent?  Then  should  she  not  be  philosophical 


£88  NEXT   DOOR. 

enough  to  accept  Margery's  happiness  instead  of  he! 
own  ?  It  seemed  very  simple  to  Kate  in  theory,  only 
sometimes  the  actual  walking  of  her  path  was  rough 
md  thorny. 

She  said  now  to  herself,  with  the  resolute  determina- 
tion to  make  the  best  of  things,  "  Margery  is  pre- 
paring me  for  the  change.  The  dear  child  doesn't 
know  it,  but  she  is  saying  and  doing  the  very  things 
that  are  best  for  me." 

But  Margery  received  a  letter  from  Aunt  Ann  one 
day  about  now  that  proved  a  veritable  bomb-shell, 
threatening  to  blow  into  pieces  every  peaceful  and 
happy  prospect  of  the  summer. 

"  My  dear  Margery,"  it  read,  "  I  am  delighted  to 
think  the  time  is  so  near  when  I  shall  see  you  and 
Kate  again.  Isn't  it  queer  that  Mrs.  Exton  should  be 
BO  set  on  coining  here?  I  have  told  her  just  how 
plain  we  are,  but  she  insists ;  and  no  doubt  it's  all  for 
the  best,  for  she  will  get  acquainted  with  you  and  find 
Dut  what  a  darling  grand-daughter  she's  going  to 
have.  She  says  she  and  her  maid  will  come  with  you 
and  Kate.  You  ought  to  see  how  glad  Kits  is  to  be 
home.  I  believe  he's  climbed  every  tree  on  the  place. 
He  —  " 

Margery  dropped  the  letter  and  looked  in  surprise 
nnd  dismay  at  Kate.  The  latter's  eyes  were  glowing 
and  her  lips  compressed. 

"What  a  shame!"  cried  Margery,  but  not  with 
much  feeling.  Her  thoughts  at  once  wandered  to  the 
fearful  interest  of  meeting  her  prospective  relative 


IN    THE   COUNTRY.  289 

So  fai  Mrs.  Exton  had  sent  civil  messages  by  Ray, 
but  she  had  always  made  some  excuse  for  not  receiv- 
ing his  fiancee.  Margery  quaked  a  little  at  the 
present  prospect,  but  she  was  not  without  a  certain 
pleasant  excitement  in  it  until  she  realized  the  effect 
of  the  news  upon  Kate.  The  fire  died  from  the 
latter's  eyes,  and  she  picked  .up  her  sewing  without 
a  word. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  turn  white  over  it, 
Kate.  She  likes  you.  Now,  if  it  had  only  been  you 
whom  Ray  had  fallen  in  love  with." 

Kate  looked  up.  "  It  is  like  the  nightmare,"  she 
said.  "  I  wanted  to  be  alone  with  you,  Margery,  a 
little  while." 

"Well  we  are  certainly  not  going  to  be  with  her" 
returned  Margery,  with  a  little  stirring  of  hurt  pride. 
"  She  is  nothing  to  us  until  she  chooses  to  be  some- 
thing." 

But  on  the  way  to  Cedarville  Mrs.  Exton  did 
choose  to  be  graciousness  itself.  She  listened  to  Mar- 
gery, and  accepted  her  attentions  with  such  gratitude 
as  a  duchess  might  show.  Kate  scarcely  spoke  half  a 
dozen  words  during  the  day,  and  Mrs.  Exton  asked 
nothing  of  her. 

It  was  an  undoubted  relief  to  the  whole  party  when 
Aunt  Ann's  cheery  welcome  amalgamated  its  diverse 
elements.  Whatever  variety  of  opinion  there  might 
be  among  the  travellers,  they  were  united  in  delight 
at  the  pleasant  aspect  of  Aunt  Ann's  little  farm,  with 
its  elms  and  its  brook,  its  orchard  surrounded  by  a 


290  NEXT  DOOR. 

stone  wall,  and  the  hill  that  rose  behind  the  house  td 
keep  off  the  north  winds. 

"  Your  home  breathes  of  peace,"  said  Mrs.  Exton  to 
Aunt  Ann,  growing  complimentary  in  her  pleasure  at 
finding  that  her  maid  could  have  a  small  room  open- 
ing  directly  from  her  own. 

"  How  long  it  will  breathe  of  peace,"  said  Aunt 
Ann,  as  soon  as  she  found  herself  alone  with  her 
nieces,  "nobody  can  tell.  Why,  girls,  why  didnit  you 
tell  me  she  had  a  dog?  Whatever  Kits  will  say,  I 
don't  know." 

"  It  is  pretty  safe  to  prophesy,"  returned  Margery, 
laughing ;  "  but  we  didn't  know  anything  about  hei 
dog  until  it  was  taken  out  of  the  baggage  car." 

"  It  is  no  use  to  cry  over  spilt  milk,"  observed  Kate, 
"  but  why  in  the  world,  dear  Aunt  Ann,  did  you  con- 
sent to  take  her?  " 

"  Well,"  returned  Aunt  Ann,  somewhat  staggered, 
"I  guess  its  because  I'd  always  rather  have  a  tooth 
out  than  say  'No.'  I  begin  to  mistrust  I  did  wrong," 
she  added,  quite  weighed  down  by  the  sudden  cer- 
tainty of  disapproval  on  the  part  of  Kits  and  Kate. 
"  She's  been  sort  of  high-headed  through  it  all,  there 
didn't  seem  to  be  any  other  way,  unless  I'd  said  flat 
out,  *  I  don't  want  you,  ma'am,'  and  perhaps  if  I'd 
known  about  that  black-faced  puppy  I  should  have 
had  strength  to  say  it.  One  thing  I  thought,  Kate," 
with  sudden  hopefulness,  "she's  so  fond  of  yow,  that 
teemed  a  reason  for  taking  her." 

"No  reason  at  all,  Aunt  Ann,"  observed  Margery, 


IN    THE   COUNTRY.  91 

gayly.  "  I  think  if  Kate  ever  hated  anybody,  it  is  my 
prospective  grandparent,  and  I  am  as  afraid  of  her  as 
I  can  be  myself.  You  should  have  seen  Kate  all  day, 
leaning  her  head  beside  the  window  and  looking  off 
into  space,  and  acting  generally  like  a  deaf  mute. 
Nothing  Molly  did,  that  is  the  maid,  seemed  to  suit; 
BO  I  had  to  come  to  the  rescue,  and  I've  been  my  very 
sweetest  all  the  way  down.  If  she  don't  like  me  now 
ehe  never  will." 

"Well,  now,  Kate,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  "you're  her 
favorite,  and  when  you  know  what  she  —  " 

Kate  made  a  quick  gesture  of  warning.  "How 
kind  of  you  to  give  us  this  room,"  she  interrupted, 
suddenly .  "What  a  view  it  must  have  when  the 
apple  trees  are  in  bloom." 

"  I  am  coming  here  to  spend  every  summer  of  my 
life  if  you  will  let  me,"  added  Margery,  enthusias- 
tically, going  to  the  open  window  and  letting  her 
happy  young  eyes  rove  over  the  charming  afternoon 
landscape.  "Ray  is  corning  next  week,  Aunt  Ann." 

"He  can't.  I  haven't  a  place  to  put  him,"  said 
Aunt  Ann,  desperately. 

"  Oh,  nonsense,"  said  Margery,  turning  and  passing 
an  arm  around  the  other's  neck.  "What  an  answer 
for  a  dear  creature  that  can't  say  'No.'" 

"I'm  never  going  to  say  anything  else  hereafter," 
Baid  Aunt  Ann,  firmly.  "  I  tell  you  there  ain't  a  room 
left  in  the  house.  Margery,  I'm  in  earnest,  and  now 
don't  you  let  him  tease  me,  because  you  know  if  he 
does  I  shall  say,  'Land,  yes,  you  can  come  just  ae 


292  NEXT   DOOR. 

well  as  not,'  and  there  ain't  a  place  unless  I  turn  out 
and  give  him  ray  own  bed." 

Margery  laughed,  and  hugged  her.  "  Then  we  will 
find  a  place  in  somebody  else's  house,"  she  answered. 

Aunt  Ann  started.  "  Don't  I  hear  that  Daddy,  or 
whatever  his  name  is  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Dandy  ?  "  suggested  Margery. 

"Yes.  He's  barking,  ain't  he?  Oh,  how  will  I 
ever  face  Kits ! " 

"  I  imagine  he  is  a  good-natured  little  thing,"  sug- 
gested Margery,  comfortingly.  "Mrs.  Exton  lovea 
him.  She  talked  about  him  ever  so  much,  coming 
down." 

At  tea  time  that  night  the  two  pets  collided.  The 
family  were  at  table.  Mrs.  Exton,  to  whom  the 
change  of  scene  had  apparently  already  brought  ben- 
efit,  was  present.  A  door  leading  from  the  dining- 
room  to  a  piazza  stood  open,  and  it  was  through  this 
open  door  that  the  assembled  quartette  were  able  to 
witness  the  tragedy.  Their  attention  was  first  attracted 
by  a  portentous  hissing  and  spitting  on  the  part  of  Kits. 
They  looked  up  with  one  accord.  There  he  stood,  truly 
a  gigantic  cat  with  his  arched  back  and  bristling  tail. 
The  very  bows  of  his  shining  blue  ribbon  seemed  to  rise 
angrily.  Opposite  him  was  Dandy,  in  all  the  glory  of 
extra  wrinkles  and  moles,  tbe  smuttiest  of  noses  and 
toe  nails,  the  tightest  of  tails,  the  daintiest  of  red 
collars  tinkling  with  silver  bells.  Dandy's  experience 
BO  far  in  life  had  led  him  to  be  nothing  if  not  confid- 
ing. With  his  head  on  one  side,  he,  in  the  face  of 


IN   THE   COUNTRY.  293 

the  paralyzed  audience,  danced  gayly  up  to  Kits,  who 
quick  as  a  flash  raised  his  paw  and  inflicted  a  vicious 
scratch  on  the  soft,  black  face. 

"  Ki  yi,"  yelled  Dandy,  and  ran  for  his  life,  his  tail 
hanging  limp. 

"  Ha !  ha ! "  hissed  Kits,  and  fled  up  a  tree.  Mrs. 
Exton  and  Aunt  Ann  rose  from  the  table  with  one 
accord. 

"Madam!"  said  the  former,  sternly. 

"Madam,  yourself ! "  returned  Aunt  Ann,  her  cheeks 
pink  with  excitement. 

Margery  began  to  laugh  irrepressibly. 

"Aunt  Ann,  you  must  order  Kits  to  apologize  to 
Dandy,"  suggested  Kate,  willing  to  make  peace. 

"I  should  like  to  know  why,"  asked  Aunt  Ann. 
•"Kits  didn't  invite  any  dog  to  come  down  here." 

"  You  will  please  me  very  much  by  shutting  up  your 
cat  in  future,  Miss  Eaton,"  said  Mrs.  Exton,  swelling 
with  a  sense  of  outrage. 

"I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  ma'am,"  returned 
Miss  Eaton,  promptly :  "  but  I  will  give  you  the  free 
use  of  the  barn  chamber  for  your  dog.  *  'Tis  dogs 
delight  to  bark  and  bite,'  and  they  hadn't  ought  to  be 
let  run  loose  anyway." 

"  I  am  surprised  at  such  a  speech  from  a  woman 
who  keeps  a  wild  cat  on  her  place,  a  great  ferocious 
brute  who  will  attack  a  gentle  creature  like  Dandy, 
who  never  bit  anybody." 

"Mrs.  Exton,  I  think  neither  you  nor  Aunt  Ann  will 
Uave  any  further  trouble  with  your  pets,"  said  Kate. 


294  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  Dandy  will  keep  out  of  Kits'  way  hereafter,  you  may 
be  sure." 

"  If  he  lives  at  all,"  said  Mrs.  Exton,  impressively. 
"Excuse  me,  and  I  will  get  Molly  to  search  for 
him." 

"I'll  hunt  him  up  myself,"  said  Aunt  Ann, 
brusquely,  pushing  her  chair  back  from  the  table. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Mrs.  Exton  again,  this  time 
stretching  out  her  thin,  white  hand  with  a  queenly 
gesture.  "  After  the  hatred  you  have  expressed,  I 
should  feel  safer  if  you  did  not  touch  the  poor  little 
creature." 

Aunt  Ann  gave  a  grunt  of  impatience.  "  Well,  I'll 
go  get  the  Pond's  Extract  bottle.  It'll  likely  be  the 
best  thing  to  rub  on." 

There  was  quite  a  search,  in  which  all  finally  joined, 
and  Mrs.  Exton  had  gone  into  hysterics  before  the  pug 
was  found  ;  but  finally,  up  in  the  orchard  behind  a 
fallen  tree,  he  was  discovered,  a  very  forlorn  and  dis- 
illusioned little  dog,  meditating  upon  the  hollowness 
of  the  world,  and  licking  his  ridiculous  face  where  the 
deep  scratch  was  still  bleeding  slightly. 

Margery  picked  him  up  and  carried  him  to  the 
house,  patting  him  and  comforting  him  all  the  way, 
and  she  received  her  first  kind  look  from  the  dog's 
weeping  mistress  in  return  for  depositing  him  in  her 
arms.  She  stayed  and  helped  apply  the  Pond's  Ex- 
tract, and  Aunt  Ann  left  the  house  arid  went  out  unde? 
the  tree  among  whose  upper  boughs  Kits  was  still  iu 
retirement. 


IN   THE   COUNTRY.  295 

"Come  down,  Kits,"  she  said,  trying  not  to  speak 
too  kindly. 

No  movement. 

"  Kits,  Kits,  Kits ! "  she  called. 

Kits  mewed  and  stirred. 

"Come,  Kits,"  she  said  again;  and  the  cat  came 
daintily  stepping  down,  occasionally  mewing. 

"  Kits,  you  know  how  I  talked  to  you  about  fighting 
in  Boston,"  she  said,  lifting  him  up  on  her  hip  and 
looking  into  his  face  as  she  walked  slowly  in  the  dusk 
toward  the  house.  "  That  was  wicked,  downright 
wicked,  and  you  couldn't  see  out  of  your  eye  for  two 
days.  Now  was  this  what  you  did  to-day  in  self- 
defence  ?  " 

The  cat  mewed. 

"I  thought  it  was.  That  ;was  all  right  and  well 
enough  ;  but  you  must  remember  that  dog  is  company, 
and  you  must  treat  him  as  Avell  as  you  can."  Aunt 
Ann  put  her  cheek  down  on  Kits'  handsome  head. 
"  I  think  I  see  myself  shutting  you  up  so's  to  let  a  dog 
without  any  nose  overrun  the  place  ;  a  dog  rigged  up 
in  bells  like  a  fool.  No,  Kits ;  I  want  you  should 
remember  your  manners  as  you  always  have :  but  if 
that  critter  goes  to  acting  around  where  you  are,  and 
bothering,  I  sha'n't  say  one  word  if  you  scratch  him 
again." 

As  the  cat  and  dog  seemed  mutually  agreed  to  shun 
one  another's  society,  this  first  household  disturbance 
quieted,  and  the  family  settled  down  to  a  pleasant 
routine  life,  only  rippled  now  and  then  by  Mrs.  Exton'a 


296  NEXT  DOOR. 

exactions.  She  described  herself  as  the  most  easily 
satisfied  of  mortals;  but,  like  most  ladies  of  alleged 
simple  tastes,  she  required  an  interminable  amount  of 
waiting  on  ;  and  as  her  maid  was  sulky  and  dissatisfied, 
she  claimed  much  attention  and  help  from  the  two 
girls.  Margery  was  willing  enough  to  please  her,  but 
her  little  hands  were  very  full  of  sewing,  and  she 
planned  for  many  a  ramble  with  Kate  which  Mrs. 
Exton's  exigencies  indefinitely  postponed.  Kate,  to  do 
her  justice,  would  ordinarily  forego  her  own  wishes 
with  alacrity  to  serve  a  sick  and  elderly  friend  ;  but 
knowing  what  was  in  store  for  her,  she  was  over-sensi- 
tive to  every  demand.  This  little  while,  these  few 
weeks  were  her  own.  Her  first  impulse  at  each  fresh 
request  for  a  song,  or  a  story  to  be  read  aloud,  was  to 
refuse  with  desperate  energy.  The  fact  is  that  the 
friction  between  her  wishes  and  her  actions  wore  her 
thin  in  these  days.  Margery  saw  the  growing  slender- 
ness,  and  so  did  Aunt  Ann  ;  and  the  latter  in  a  dim, 
vague  fashion  perceived  the  cause. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  dear,"  she  said  one  day  to  Kate, 
"  I've  done  a  good  many  silly  things  in  my  life,  but 
the  silliest  of  all  was  letting  Mrs.  Exton  come  down 
here.  I  see  it.  You'd  a  started  in  with  her  better  in 
the  fall  if  you'd  a  had  a  good  rest  this  summer.  The 
woman  frets  you.  I  don't  believe  it's  going  to  work 
anyhow,  Kate,  your  living  with  her.  It  would  if  you 
liked  her.  It  would  be  first-rate ;  but  she's  as  selfish  a 
piece  as  I  ever  came  across,  and  no  wonder  you  can'* 
like  her." 


IN   THE   COUNTRY.  297 

"My  mind  is  made  up  about  that,  Aunt  Ann.  I  am 
going  to  live  with  her,"  returned  Kate,  quietly ;  "  but 
let  me  warn  you  again  riot  to  let  Margery  suspect  it. 
You  have  frightened  me  once  or  twice.  It  wouldn't 
do.  It  would  spoil  everything." 

Aunt  Ann  paused  with  her  hands  in  the  dish-water 
and  looked  at  her.  They  were  at  the  kitchen  sink,  and 
Kate  was  wiping  glasses  for  her.  "Kate  Standish," 
she  said,  slowly,  as  a  mist  seemed  to  roll  away  from 
her  mental  sight,  "  you're  a  noble  woman." 

Kate  colored.  She  looked  guilty  and  anxious. 
There  was  nothing  she  dreaded  more  than  to  have 
Aunt  Ann  realize  the  situation.  She  feared  it  was 
just  dawning  clearly  upon  her. 

"Oh,  you  promised  me,  Aunt  Ann,"  she  said,  desper- 
ately. 

"  I  did,  my  child.  I  will  keep  my  word.  God  blesi 
jrou,  Kate,"  was  the  earnest  answer. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MARGERY  SUSPECTS. 

MRS.  EXTON,  one  day  when  she  and  Kate  had  been 
discussing  songs,  spoke  of  one  which  she  said  she 
wished  Kate  would  learn. 

"  For  next  winter,  you  know,"  she  added. 

Margery  was  in  the  room,  and  looked  up  inquir- 
ingly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Kate,  "  it  might  be  very  useful." 
Then  she  spoke  of  finding  a  little  bell  which  had 
dropped  from  Dandy's  collar,  and  the  subject  was 
effectually  changed. 

There  was  a  pleasant  little  shady  group  of  trees 
down  by  the  brook,  where  the  girls  sat  with  their  sew- 
ing  as  often  as  the  weather  and  Mrs.  Exton  would 
permit.  Kate  arrived  there  one  morning  in  advance 
of  Margery,  and  settled  herself  in  one  of  the  seats 
they  had  contrived.  The  brook's  song  was  low  at  this 
season,  but  in  accord  with  the  soft,  rare  breezes  of  mid- 
summer. Kate  was  enjoying  the  peacefulness  about 
her  when  it  was  suddenly  broken  in  upon  by  Margery, 
who  came  hurrying  into  the  grove  with  unusuaj 
energy. 

298 


MARGERY   SUSPECTS.  299 

"Kate,  I  want  to  know  right  off  what  secret  you 
have  with  Mrs.  Exton."  The  speaker's  shade  hat  waa 
on  the  back  of  her  head,  one  broad  mull  "  string "  in 
each  hand,  and  her  whole  effect  as  she  planted  herself 
before  her  sister,  so  determined,  that  Kate's  heart  sank 
within  her. 

"What  makes  you  think  that  I  have  a  secret?" 

"That  won't  do,"  returned  the  other,  with  an  impa* 
tient  shake  of  the  head.  "I  have  proof.  See  this. 
I  just  picked  it  up  from  the  grass  under  Mrs.  Exton'a 
window." 

Kate  took  the  crumpled  paper  she  offered,  and 
straightened  it.  She  had  seen  it  before.  She  had 
written  upon  it  herself :  — 

Please  be  more  careful  in  what  you  say  before  Margery. 
Do  you  remember  what  you  promised  me  the  clay  that  1 
•greed  to  your  wishes  ? 

Kate  glanced  over  the  words,  then  looked  off,  as 
though  meditating,  then  back  at  Margery,  who  re- 
gained  possession  of  the  paper.  "  Well,"  she  said, 
"it  is  nothing  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Kate,"  said  the  younger  girl,  very  seriously, 
"  you  make  it  so  easy  for  me  to  be  selfishly  happy 
that  I  am  apt  to  forget  in  these  days  that  the  world 
was  not  made  wholly  for  me.  You  have  let  me  prom- 
:se  to  marry  Ray  without  considering  yourself.  When 
he  urged  a  short  engagement,  and  suggested  that  we 
be  married  the  first  of  October,  and  go  to  Europe  on 
our  wedding  trip,  you  saw  that  I  was  dazzled  by  the 
thought,  and  you  encouraged  me  to  consent.  When- 


BOO  NEXT   DOOR. 

ever  I  spoke  of  your  loneliness  you  hushed  me,  and 
Buggested  a  dozen  reasons  why  you  would  not  be 
lonely  or  unhappy,  and  I  have  always  let  myself  be 
laughed  or  petted  out  of  every  objection.  I  ask  your 
pardon,  dear,  for  my  selfishness.  You  would  not  marry 
without  understanding  definitely  what  was  to  become 
of  me.  Very  well,  I  tell  you  soberly  that  I  must 
know  the  whole  truth  referred  to  on  this  paper,  or  else 
my  wedding  is  put  off  indefinitely." 

Kate  met  her  eyes  imploringly.  "  If  you  knew  how 
you  trouble  me,  Margery,  you  would  take  back  every 
ivord  of  that." 

"  Not  one  word,"  replied  the  other,  shaking  her  head 
slowly.  "  No  plan  which  you  hide  from  me  can  mean 
happiness  for  you." 

"  But  if  I  tell  you,  if  I  assure  you,  that  on  the  whole 
it  does  mean  happiness." 

•'To  whom?" 

"To  me." 

Margery  smiled.  "I  should  stick  to  my  decision. 
Put  yourself  in  my  place.  What  would  you  do  ?  " 

Kate  pinched  up  a  ruffle  into  a  dozen  fine  plaits,  and 
Was  silent. 

"  Perhaps  I  have  given  you  cause  to  say  that  you 
love  me  more  than  I  do  you,  but  you  shall  never  say 
BO  again.  It  isn't  true,  Kate,"  added  Margery,  impul- 
sively. "You  were  my  darling,  faithful,  devoted 
sister  for  ages  before  I  ever  saw  Ray  Ingalls,  and  if  I 
must  choose  which  of  you  to  make  happy  it  will  be 
you,  dear,"  she  finished,  fervently,  throwing  her  arm 


MAHGEBY   SUSPECTS.  301 

(round  Kate,  and  crying  a  little  on  her  shoulder.  Tha 
tears  ran  down  Kate's  cheeks  unheeded. 

"  Margery,  Margery,  what  are  you  saying  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed. "It  will  all  be  different  when  Kay  is  with 
you  again,  presenting  his  side  of  the  case ;  but  I  can- 
Dot  bear  to  hear  you  talk  so." 

"  Then  I  will  not  talk  about  it ;  but  it  will  not  be 
different  when  Ray  conies,  unless  he  can  explain  thid 
mystery  —  " 

"  He  promised  me." 

"Oh,  then,  he  knows?  Kate,"  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "I  feel  as  if  I  could  not  bear  it  to  find  out  that 
Ray  had  been  a  party  to  anything  —  what  can  it  be? 
How  unkind  you  are  to  keep  it  from  me.  I  will  go 
straight  to  Mrs.  Exton." 

"  She  will  not  tell  you,"  replied  Kate,  growing  calm. 
44  Margery,  you  say  you  want  to  make  me  happy. 
Then  go  on  with  every  plan  just  as  we  expected.  Do 
you  think  I  cannot  take  care  of  myself  ?  " 

"That  is  just  what  I  think,"  answered  Margery, 
promptly.  "Tell  me,  at  least,  whether  I  must  be 
ungry  with  Ray.  Has  he  connived  —  " 

"  He  has  done  nothing  unkind,  nothing  that  ought 
to  vex  you." 

"  Very  well,  then,  in  the  course  of  years  I  will  marry 
him,  \vhen  you  are  married,  or  settled  in  some  happy 
way."  Margery  contracted  her  eyebrows,  and  looked 
meditatively  at  her  sister.  "What  can  you  have 
agreed  to  that  you  are  not  willing  to  tell  me  ?  Not  to 
live  with  Mrs.  Exton,  I  know ;  because,  rather  than  to 


802  NEXT   DOOR. 

do  that,  you  would  teach  until  you  were  seventy,  and 
then  go  to  the  Old  Ladies'  Home,  and  yet  —  oh,  what 
is  it,  Kate?  Do  tell  me." 

Kate  rose.  "  I  am  going  to  the  house,"  she  said, 
slowly  and  with  dignity.  "I  am  seriously . hurt  thai 
you  will  not  trust  me."  And,  gathering  up  her  work, 
she  moved  away,  without  a  look  behind  her. 

Margery  stared  after  her.  It  was  all  incomprehen- 
sible. She  sat  there  for  perhaps  ten  or  fifteen  minutes, 
leaning  forward,  with  her  chin  resting  on  her  folded 
hands,  and  her  eyes  staring  away  across  the  brook, 
with  its  bright  green  banks  dotted  with  clumps  of 
alder  and  bunches  of  peppermint,  to  the  woods  that 
stretched  away  beyond.  All  at  once,  as  though  her 
bright  eyes  had  conjured  it  from  among  the  softly 
rustling  trees,  appeared  the  figure  of  a  man. 

Margery's  heart  leaped  at  sight  of  him.  It  was  hard 
to  tell  why  she  should  feel  such  glad  emotion  ;  for  it 
was  not  Ray  Ingalls,  but  John  Exton,  who  strode 
across  the  brook  and  up  the  shallow,  grassy  incline. 
He  did  not  see  her  until  she  started  up  and  ran  toward 
him. 

*'  Mr.  Exton,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. 

The  new-comer  turned  in  pleased  surprise  at  such 
vehement  cordiality,  and  shook  her  offered  hand.  "  I 
didn't  know  you  had  returned  from  Chicago.  Won't 
you  come  into  my  sewing-room,  and  sit  down?  Kate 
and  I  are  awkward  carpenters,  but  I  think  that  seal 
irill  hold  you." 


MAEGERY   SUSPECTS.  303 

"Thank  you,  I  will  with  pleasure.  I  have  been 
snking  what  I  think  the  natives  must  be  satirical  in 
terming  a  short  cut  from  the  village."  And  Mr.  Exton 
seated  himself,  taking  off  his  hat,  arid  wiping  his  brow 
with  his  handkerchief. 

"  Yes.  Kate  and  I  have  taken  it,"  replied  Margery, 
nervously.  "  It  is  a  lovely  walk." 

"  I  remember  your  sister  likes  to  walk.  I  think  you 
must  be  enjoying  yourselves  here,"  said  Exton,  leaning 
back  against  a  tree  trunk,  and  looking  observantly 
around  him. 

"  It  is  a  lovely  old  place,"  answered  Margery,  impa- 
tient to  have  done  with  the  conventionalities  of  the 
occasion;  "and  we  were  having  a  lovely  time,  —  at 
least,  I  was,  — until  this  morning." 

Exton  looked  at  her  anxiously.  "  Is  my  mother  ill 
again  ?  She  has  written  me  in  the  best  of  spirits." 

"No,  indeed;  I  think  you  will  find  her  very  com- 
fortable.  I  was  so  glad  tc  see  you,  Mr.  Exton,  when 
you  came  in  sight  a  moment  ago,"  added  the  girl,  after 
a  moment'8  pause.  "I  am  in  such  perplexity  thia 
morning." 

Mr.  Exton  smiled  at  her.  She  seemed  unusually 
youthful  to  him  in  her  shade  hat  and  simple  morning 
dress.  "  I  fancy  you  can  be  helped  out  of  it  easily," 
he  said.  "  I  left  Ray  in  a  high  state  of  anticipation 
la:.t  evening.  He  expects  to  come;  possibly,  to- mor- 
row." 

A  flush  of  pleasure  came  into  the  girl's  face,  and 
vneu  vanished.  "Poor  Kay,"  she  sighed.  "Mr 


804  NEXT . DOOR. 

Exton,"  she  continued,  gravely, "  I  know  you  can  help 
me,  and  I  know  you  will.  I  found  this  paper  this 
tnoming  on  the  grass  beneath  your  mother's  window. 
Read  it,  please." 

Putting  it  into  his  hands,  she  continued:  "You  see 
there  is  something  here  that  Kate  is  unwilling  I  should 
know  ;  therefore  it  means  something  unhappy  for  her 
I  have  entreated  her  to  tell  me  about  it,  and  she 
refuses  obstinately.  Just  think,  Ray  knows  it,  what- 
ever it  is;  she  admitted  that.  What  am  I  to  think  of 
himfn  And  there  were  tears  in  Margery's  eyes  as 
she  turned  her  hands  out  in  a  little  gesture  of  despair. 

Her  companion  did  not  speak.  Very  stern  his  face 
looked  as  he  kept  his  eyes  on  the  paper,  reading  the 
few  sentences  over  and  over. 

"  Oh,  here  comes  Kate  back  again ! "  ejaculated 
Margery,  catching  sight  of  a  light  dress  coming  swiftly 
across  the  green.  "Don't  let  her  see  it.  Come,  Kate," 
she  added,  speaking  aloud  and  in  as  bright  a  tone  aa 
she  could  command,  "  were  you  afraid  I  had  drowned 
myself  in  the  brook  ?  Come,  we  have  a  visitor." 

Kxton  slipped  the  paper  into  his  vest  pocket,  and 
rose  to  meet  the  new-comer.  She  put  her  hand  in  his» 
and  said  a  few  kind  words.  For  seven  long  weeks  this- 
moment  had  been  the  goal  toward  which  he  was  work* 
•ng;  and  now  those  few  written  words  assured  him 
that  he  had  a  right  to  be  here.  Whatever  Kate  might 
think,  it  was  certain  that  she  needed  him. 

Margery  turned  away,  and  sauntered  to  the  broofe 
to  hide  her  excitement. 


MARGERY-  SUSPECTS.  305 

"  It  was  hardly  right  in  Margery  to  waylay  you,  and 
keep  you  from  your  mother,"  said  Kate,  trying  to  be 
bright  and  unembarrassed. 

"  I  was  very  glad  to  be  waylaid.  I  had  had  a  long 
walk  through  the  woods.  Here,"  bringing  from  an 
inside  pocket  of  his  coat  a  loosely  pinned  little 
paper,  "  are  some  violets  I  found  for  you  as  I  came 
along." 

"For  me?"  said  Kate,  taking  them,  and  coloring 
with  pleasure,  much  touched  and  surprised  by  such  a 
gift  from  such  a  person.  "  You  do  not  know  how  I 
love  violets." 

"  Perhaps  I  do.  I  have  noticed  that  you  wear  them 
very  often." 

"  Yes ;  so  many  have  been  sent  me.  I  have  been 
very  fortunate.  I  remember  now  that  you  said  you 
liked  them  especially." 

"I  do,"  said  Exton,  his  hands  crossed  behind  him,  aa 
he  stood  satisfying  his  hunger  for  a  sight  of  Kate,  who 
occupied  her  eyes  and  fingers  with  the  delicate  little 
flowers.  "  They  are  to  me  the  loveliest  gift  of  nature." 

There  was  nothing  in  this  to  make  Kate  sure,  for  she 
had  never  hitherto  thought  of  Mr.  Exton  as  possibly 
Bending  the  fragrant  messages  that  had  come  with 

o  o  o 

such  regularity ;  and  yet  from  that  moment  she  was 
entirely  sure  that  they  l.ad  come  from  him,  had  been 
the  expression  of  his  thought  for  her.  The  percep- 
tion, bewildering  in  its  sweetness,  held  her  powerless 
to  speak  or  to  move  It  was  very  still  in  the  shade 
where  they  stood;  the  brook's  cool  plash  made  the 


B06  NEXT   DOOR. 

only  sound.  Kate  kept  her  eyes  on  the  violets,  and 
John  Exton  kept  his  eyes  on  her. 

"How  much  more  charming  she  is  in  that  blue  and 
white  stuff  than  I  ever  saw  her ! "  he  thought,  deeply 
content.  "You  have  grown  thin,  I  think,"  he  said. 

"Impossible  —  during  vacation  —  in  the  country," 
she  replied,  finding  suddenly  that  it  was  a  singularly 
airless  day,  and  that  it  was  difficult  to  breathe ;  "  but 
if  it  continues  so  warm  as  this,"  she  added,  turning 
about  suddenly,  as  if  to  throw  off.  a  spell,  "  there  is  no 
telling  what  may  happen.  Do  not  let  us  keep  you 
here,  Mr.  Exton.  Your  mother  must  be  expecting 
you." 

Exton  removed  his  eyes.  He  began  to  suspect  from 
her  manner  that  he  might  have  been  staring  at  her. 
He  looked  at  her  hands,  as  the  next  best  thing  to  her 
face.  They  were  not  very  long  and  slender,  or  other- 
wise "  unutterable  patrician,"  but  they  were  pretty  and 
white.  When  Nature  makes  a  woman  with  Kate 
Stand ish's  type  of  face,  all  beauty  of  form  usually 
accompanies  it.  He  reflected  on  the  selfish  use  to 
which  it  was  intended  to  put  her,  on  the  sacrifice  that 
had  been  reqiiired  of  her,  on  the  unflinching  way  in 
which  she  would  be  sure  to  make  it. 

"No,"  he  answered,  with  a  slight,  inscrutable  smile. 
"  I  am  going  to  surprise  my  mother.  Are  you  going 
back  to  the  house,  Miss  Standish  ?  " 

"  Not  immediately,"  she  replied,  moving  toward  one 
of  the  seats. 

u  Then  I  will  see  you  again  after  a  time.    I  am  going 


MARGERY   SUSPECTS.  301 

to  stay  to  dinner,  if  Miss  Eaton  will  let  me."  And, 
picking  up  his  hat,  Exton  bowed  and  left  the  grove. 

Kate  did  not  look  after  him.  She  gazed  at  Mar- 
gery, who  was  sitting  on  the  grass  by  the  brook,  close 
to  the  clump  of  peppermint,  leaves  of  which  she  was 
absently  tearing  and  pinching,  so  that  their  breath 
reached  Kate.  What  wonder  that  ever  after  that 
odor  of  mint,  which  to  others  suggests  a  prosaic  sauce 
for  the  table,  connected  itself  for  her  with  ineffable 
things. 

A  secret,  great,  and  exultant  joy  throbbed  in  all  her 
being.  "  I  have  had  the  happiest  moment  I  shall  ever 
know,"  she  said  to  herself. 

John  Exton,  as  he  hurried  on  up  the  hill,  felt  that 
he  had  an  unenviable  task  before  him.  He  loved  his 
mother,  he  felt  strongly  a  sense  of  duty  toward  her; 
and  the  consciousness  of  her  enfeebled  condition 
brought  out  the  tenderness  and  chivalry  of  his  nature. 
He  knew  what  he  was  to  her,  —  all  that  she  loved  after 
herself.  This  knowledge  had  restrained  and  governed 
him  in  times  past.  It  had  held  him  back  from  the 
pursuit  of  happiness,  or,  in  other  words,  Kate.  He 
had.  waited  and  waited,  he  knew  not  precisely  for 
what,  too  really  unselfish  to  claim  his  own  rights 
at  the  expense  of  his  mother's  peace.  Few  women 
could  command  such  love  from  a  son  without  being 
more  lovely. 

The  glad  change  that  came  over  her  face  on  being; 
told  of  Exton's  arrival  was  proof  enough  of  her  fond- 
ness for  him.  She  stretched  out  both  hands  when,  ha 


808  NEXT  DOOR 

came  into  the  room,  and  welcomed  him  with  a  warmth 
that  seemed  to  shame  his  purpose.  He  sat  down,  and 
answered  all  her  questions ;  described  the  parks  and 
drives  and  lake  breezes  of  Chicago,  and  congratulated 
her  lovingly  on  the  apparent  improvement  in  her 
health.  At  last,  he  brought  the  conversation  around 
to  the  inmates  of  the  house. 

"  And  how  do  you  like  our  prospective  relative,  the 
little  Margery  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You  have  had  good  op- 
portunity to  study  her." 

"My  dear  boy,  I  have  long  given  up  studying 
people,"  replied  his  mother,  indifferently.  "I  know 
almost  at  a  glance  who  will  interest  me,  and  who  will 
not.  I  have  no  objection  to  Margery." 

"Is  that  the  best  you  can  say  for  her?" 

"  It  is  rather  fortunate  for  her  and  Ray  that  I  can 
Bay  that  much,"  was  the  smiling  reply.  "It  would 
certainly  inconvenience  them  if  I  were  to  say  less." 

"I  have  often  thought,"  said  Exton,  witli  a  quiet 
persistence,  "that  your  first  impulse  must  have  been  to 
object.  I  know  how  strenuous  your  feelings  are  on 
this  absurdly  arbitrary  question  of  caste.  I  should 
have  said  that  you  would  not  approve  of  a  marriage 
between  one  of  our  family  and  one  of  this." 

"  My  first  impulse  was  certainly  to  object,"  said  the 
other,  complacently ;  "  but  Ray  was  so  earnest  I 
thought  better  of  it." 

John  Exton  was  accustomed  to  his  mother's  faculty 
of  twisting  her  own  motives  ;  but  he  had  always  found 
lome  tender  excuse  for  her,  on  the  ground  of  hef 


MARGERY    SUSPECTS.  309 

invalidism.  He  had  never  felt  ashamed  for  her  until 
now.  He  knew  that  she  was  trying  to  deceive  herself 
as  well  as  him  in  this  matter ;  and  it  hurt  him  to  show 
her  that  she  had  failed  in  the  latter  effort. 

"Perhaps  you  thought  Miss  Standish would  be  more 
likely  to  act  as  your  companion  if  her  sister  was  dis~ 
posed  of." 

"  How  can  I  tell  now  all  the  thoughts  I  may  have 
had  ?  However,  it  is  as  well  you  should  know  that  1 
expect  to  engage  Miss  Standish  in  the  fall.  I  hope  it 
•will  not  be  disagreeable  for  you,  John.  I  think  it  will 
not.  She  is  really  very  sensible." 

"  It  is  disagreeable  to  me  to  have  her  coerced." 

"Who  talks  of  coercion?" 

"  This  does,"  and  John  took  the  scrap  of  writing 
from  his  pocket.  "  You  must  have  dropped  this  from 
your  window.  It  was  on  the  grass  below." 

Mrs  Exton  held  up  her  eye-glass  with  one  unsteady 
white  hand.  "  Ah,  indeed !  "  she  said,  as  she  recog- 
nized the  written  message.  "  Do  you  think  you  had 
better  meddle,  John  ?  "  • 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  do  decidedly.  Your  ready  consent 
to  Ray's  wishes  was  a  mystery  to  me  only  until  I  read 
this.  I  know  how  hard  it  is  for  you  to  give  up  a  wish 
you  have  once  formed.  I  see  now  that  you  did  not 
scruple  to  work  upon  this  young  lady's  love  for  her 
sister  until  she  consented  to  what  is  repugnant  to  her, 
for  Margery's  sake." 

"  You  assume  a  great  deal." 

u  Oh,  it  is  quite  plain.     This*  paper  shows  Kate  to 


310  NEXT   DOOR. 

be  in  terror  lest  her  sister  should  discover  this  plan, 
because  she  knows  that  rather  than  consent  to  it, 
Margery  would  give  up  her  marriage." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  believe  such  rubbish 
as  that  ?  " 

"Fully.  I  know  it.  Mother,  have  I  ever  thwarted 
you  in  any  way  before  ?  " 

No  answer. 

"  Well,  I  must  in  this.  I  cannot  allow  Miss  Stan- 
dish  to  put  us  under  any  such  obligation  as  to  come 
into  our  house  to  be  at  your  or  any.  one's  beck  and 
call." 

"  Indeed ! "  Mrs.  Exton's  dim  eyes  flashed,  and 
Bhe  seemed  suddenly  alert  and  in  full  possession  of  her 
strength.  "  How  can  you  prevent  it  ?  " 

"By  laying  the  whole  arrangement  before  Miss 
Margery."  He  started  up,  catching  sight  of  some  one 
from  the  window.  "  She  is  coming  into  the  house 
now.  May  I  call  her  up  here?" 

Mrs.  Exton  waved  her  hand  in  haughty  consent,  and 
in  another  minute  Margery. was  in  the  room,  her  hat 
in  her  hand,  looking  from  mother  to  son  with  an  ex- 
cited expectancy. 

John  brought  forward  a  chair  for  her. 

"  I  would  rather  stand,  please,"  she  said,  resting  hei 
hand  on  its  back.  "  How  angry  and  hard  that  woman 
can  look  !  "  she  said  to  herself. 

"  Miss  Margery,  I  wish  you  to  understand  some 
matters  relative  to  your  engagement  which,  I  believe, 
Hay  has  withheld  from  you,  probably  at  your  sister's 


MATtGERY   SUSPECTS.  311 

request.  My  mother  governs  Ray's  fortune  for  a  few? 
years  to  come.  It  is  not  large,  and  it  is  so  disposed 
that  lie  receives  but  a  small  income  from  it  at  present. 
My  mother  consented  to  Ray's  marriage  on  the  condi- 
tion that  your  sister  would  thereafter  make  her  home 
with  her.  Your  sister  consented  to  the  condition,  and 
BO  matters  stand  at  present.  This,  I  believe,  is  news 
to  you." 

Margery's  face  flushed  slowly,  deeply.  Mrs.  Exton 
watched  her  with  a  most  disagreeable  expression  of 
criticism. 

"Very  sad  news,  Mr.  Exton,"  replied  the  girl.  "It 
means  a  great  deal  to  me.  Why  have  you  not  told 
me  this?"  she  added,  turning  suddenly  to  Mrs.  Exton. 

The  latter  used  her  smelling-bottle.  "It  was  noth- 
ing to  me  whether  you  were  told  or  not,"  she  said. 
"  You  must  remember  you  were  nothing  to  me  at  the 
time,  not  even  an  acquaintance.  If  you  are  minded 
to  turn  this  very  commonplace  arrangement  into  a 
tragedy,  please  do  so  outside  of  this  room.  I  hope 
you  are  satisfied,  John." 

"I  shall  be  when  I  know  what  Miss  Margery  says 
to  it." 

Margery  looked  at  him,  her  breast  rising  and  falling. 
"  Cun  you  doubt,  Mr.  Exton  ?"  she  said.  "  Thank  you 
BO  much  for  your  great  kindness,"  she  added,  earnestly, 
coming  forward  and  taking  his  hand  in  both  of  hers. 
"No  one  else  would  have  told  me.  I  should  have 
oeen  allowed  to  go  on.  No  one  seems  to  care  fol 
Kate  but  me." 


812  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  And  you  care  for  her  more  than  you  do  for  Ray," 
remarked  Mrs.  Exton.  "  I  am  glad  we  found  that  out 
in  time.  His  own  people  love  him." 

Margery  turned  her  clear  young  eyes  on  the  speaker 
with  a  kind  of  curiosity  as  though  she  had  never  seen 
her  before.  Then  she  released  John,  and  left  the  room 
without  another  word.  She  hurried  out  of  the  house 
and  ran  across  the  lawn.  Kate  was  still  sitting  in  the 
grove,  pretending  to  sew. 

Margery  suddenly  appeared  before  her,  pushed  her 
work  away,  took  her  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her. 

"  I  understand  it  all  now,  dear,"  she  said,  rather 
breathlessly,  but  without  tears.  "  Mr.  Exton  has  found 
out  and  told  me.  It  was  just  like  you." 

Kate  looked  at  her  helplessly,  all  her  vague,  sweet 
happiness  put  to  flight.  "  What  shall  I  do  with  you, 
Margery?"  she  said,  her  hands  falling  nerveless  in 
her  lap. 

"Love  me,"  answered  Margery,  resting  her  own 
cheek  tenderly  against  hers. 

"And  Ray?    Will  he  wait?" 

Margery  smiled  with  a  look  of  utter  confidence. 
"  Ray  must  have  been  misled,"  she  said.  "If  he  could 
not  be  a  true  brother  to  you,  Kate,  he  could  never  be 
a  husband  to  me." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

AT  MRS.  PARKER'S. 

WHEN  the  girls  returned  to  the  house,  Mr.  Exton 
had  gone.  Mrs.  Exton  had  her  dinner  brought  up  to 
her  room ;  and  as  Aunt  Ann  and  her  nieces  had  not 
often  the  pleasure  of  a  meal  together  without  her,  it 
ought  to  have  been  a  hilarious  occasion.  Aunt  Ann 
sat  down  to  the  table  making  the  announcement  cheer- 
fully that  the  old  lady  was  indisposed. 

"  I  tried  to  make  Mr.  Exton  wait,"  she  said,  "  but 
he  said  no.  It  seems  he's  made  arrangements  to  stay 
at  Parker's,  in  the  village,  and  there's  a  room  there 
that  Ray  can  have.  He  said  he'd  probably  come  back 
to-morrow.  It's  my  opinion,"  lowering  her  voice, 
"  that  he  and  his  ma  have  had  some'  sort  of  a  tiff." 

"It  seems  that  Mrs.  Exton  cannot  be  agreeable  long, 
even  to  him,"  observed  Margery.  "She  would  be  a 
nice  individual  for  Kate  to  live  with,  don't  you  think, 
Aunt  Ann?  A  nice  person  to  have  the  disposal  of 
Kate's  time  and  actions ! " 

"  Land !  "  ejaculated  Miss  Eaton,  looking  from  Mar. 
gery  to  Kate. 


814  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  that  at  least  you  did  not  know  it, 
I  am  glad  some  one  beside  myself  has  a  spark  of  .feeling 
for  Kate," 

Aunt  Ann  made  a  sudden  plunge  at  the  beefsteak,  and 
covered  her  guilty  consciousness  by  using  the  carving 
knife  and  fork  energetically.  She  stole  furtive  glances 
at  Kate,  who  sat  mute  and  resistless.  Margery  had  evi- 
dently, by  some  means  or  other,  deposed  her  and  taken 
possession  of  the  reins.  She  chattered  cheerily  on  all 
subjects,  and  hoped  that  to-morrow  would  prove  pleas- 
ant, for  Ray's  sake.  Apparently  her  light-heartedness 
was  real,  but  it  elicited  nothing  but  an  occasional  smile 
from  Kate,  and  timid  monosyllables  from  Aunt  Ann, 
who  had  not  yet  decided  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry 
that,  as  she  expressed  it  to  herself,  the  fat  was  in  the 
fire. 

The  next  day  Margery  went  about  the  house  singing 
like  a  bird.  Mrs.  Exton  came  feebly  out  to  the  piazza, 
and  Margery,  who  happened  to  be  in  sight,  pulled  for- 
ward a  chair  for  her,  but  turned  away,  still  humming 
her  little  song  and  not  acknowledging  her  presence  in 
any  other  way. 

Ray  was  coming.  She  would  see  him  to-day.  They 
had  been  separated  two  Aveeks.  Every  wish  of  hers 
he  would  sympathize  with ;  he  would  understand  her 
every  feeling,  as  he  always  had  done;  he  would  an. 
pwer  her  questions  and  explain  all  that  now  looked 
mysterious  in  his  past  behavior  regarding  Kate. 

She  expected  him  to  arrive  by  the  train  that  brought 
Mr.  Exton  yesterday,  but  the  hour  passed  and  he  did 


AT  MRS.  PARKER'S.  315 

Dot  come,  and,  with  a  keen  disappointment,  Margery 
settled  down  to  wait  until  to-morrow. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  a  horse  and  buggy  were  driven 
swiftly  up  to  the  house,  and  Mr.  Exton  alighted.  It 
was  the  hour  in  a  summer  day  when  the  hearts  of 
womankind  turn  naturally  to  dressing-sacks,  darkened 
windows,  and  naps.  The  house  looked  singularly 
quiet,  and  no  answer  came  at  once  to  his  loud  knock- 
ing, save  Dandy's  industrious  barking.  At  last  Mar- 
gery appeared  with  the  pug  at  her  heels,  his  jingling 
bells  and  sharp  little  voice  mingling  with  her  welcome 
of  the  new-comer. 

"  Ray  did  not  arrive,"  she  said,  eagerly,  as  though 
she  thought  perhaps  Exton  had  brought  some  word. 

The  latter  stooped  to  pat  the  dog,  an  unusual  con- 
descension, which  evidently  surprised  Dandy  to  the 
extent  of  extinguishing  his  bark. 

"I  do  not  see  how  your  mother  gets  any  naps, 
really,"  laughed  Margery;  "but  she  is  always  patient 
with  Dandy's  noise.  Shall  I  see  if  you  can  come  right 
up  stairs?" 

"You  need  not  disturb  her,  please,"  rejoined  the 
other,  rather  hurriedly. 

Margery  hesitated.  Was  she  to  usher  Mr.  Exton 
into  Aunt  Ann's  darkened  parlor,  and  treat  him  like  a 
caller? 

"  It  is  not  very  lively  at  Mrs.  Parker's,  where  I  am 
stopping,"  he  continued,  explanatorily;  and  Margery 
thought  his  kind,  deliberate  way  of  speaking  even 
pieasanter  than  usual.  •'!  am  hoping  to  get  a  little 


516  NEXT   DOOR. 

fishing  later,  and  meanwhile  the  thought  of  you  all 
attracted  me." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Margery,  frankly,  "  If  you  are 
going  to  stay  in  town  I  hope  you  will  come  often.  I 
feel,"  she  added,  turning  her  rosy  face  up  to  his  with 
a  charming  air  of  frankness,  "very  much  nearer 
—  I  mean  better  acquainted  with  you  since  yester- 
day. " 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  he  returned,  earnestly.  "  Mate 
gery,  —  may  I  call  you  Margery  ?  "  He  paused. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  and  the  girl  gave  him  her  hand,  with 
an  instinctive  feeling  that  he  wished  it. 

"  I  wish  you  to  feel  near  to  me,  and  to  feel  sure  that 
I  am  as  anxious  for  your  happiness  as  I  am  for  Ray's. 
Remember  I  am  going  to  be  your  uncle  one  of  these 
days,  and  you  must  feel  a  real  niece's  privilege  to 
express  your  wishes  to  me,  being  certain  of  my  sym- 
pathy. Will  you  promise  to  adopt  me  at  once  ?"  . 

"  It  will  be  a  long  time  yet,"  said  Margery,  softly ; 
"  but  I  appreciate  your  kindness.  Your  sense  of  justice 
toward  Kate  I  shall  never  forget ;  and  I  am  sure  if  I 
were  to  be  in  any  perplexity  from  which  Ray  could 
not  relieve  me,  you  would  be  my  first  thought." 

"  Do  not  forget,  then,"  said  Exton,  gravely ;  and  at 
the  same  moment  he  perceived  Kate  standing  a  little 
way  back  in  the  entry,  and  looking  astonished  at  the- 
tableau  formed  by  Margery  with  her  hand  in  John 
Exton's. 

The  latter  released  Margery  and  came  inside.  "  How 
do  you  do,  Miss  Standish  ?  I  came  to  see  if  you  had 


AT  MRS.  PARKER'S.  317 

the  bravery  to  go  for  a  drive  so  early  on  a  suramef 
Rfternoon." 

Kate  looked  keenly  at  Margery.  She  coulc?  not 
imagine  why  Mr.  Exton  should  have  been  holding  her 
hand  and  speaking  so  devotedly. 

"  Certainly,"  she  answered.  "  I  will  be  ready  in  a 
minute." 

She  hurried  up  stairs  and  soon  returned,  ready,  with 
her  hat  and  parasol.  Margery  stood  on  the  piazza  and 
watched  them  drive  off.  The  last  they  saw  of  her 
she  was  holding  Dandy  up  in  her  arms,  making  him 
wave  his  paw  after  them,  and  laughing  at  his  little, 
wrinkled,  careworn  face. 

"  I  wish  she  might  never  know  a  less  happy  moment 
than  the  present  one,"  said  Exton. 

"  Thank  you  in  her  name.  It  seems  that  I  am  fated 
after  all  to  be  a  stumbling-block  in  the  poor  child's 
path,"  said  Kate. 

"I  wish  there  were  none  more  serious,"  returned 
Exton,  gravely.  They  had  gained  the  public  road, 
and  instead  of  driving,  as  Kate  had  expected,  farther 
back  into  the  country,  he  had  turned  the  horse's  head 
toward  the  village.  "  We  are  companions  to-day  in  a 
heavy  trial,  Miss  Standish.  Ray  came  down  last 
night  on  the  train  ;  there  was  an  accident,  and  he  was 
among  the  injured.  The  collision  occurred  not  far 
from  the  town  here,  and  I  hurried  to  the  spot  as  soon 
as  the  news  came,  and  found  the  poor  boy,  and 
brought  him  to  the  house  where  I  am  stopping.  I  anj 
going  to  take  you  there  now  if  you  are  willing." 


81ft  NEXT   DOOR. 

•'Of  course  I  am  willing,"  said  Kate,  very  pale, 
uHow  much  is  be  injured?" 

"  His  left  arm  is  broken,  and  tbere  is  a  cut  on  hii 
head,  from  which  he  is  unconscious.  The  arm  baa 
been  set,  and  I  have  telegraphed  to  Boston  for  Dr. 

D ,"    naming  a   famous  surgeon ;    "  and   until   he 

arrives  I  shall  not  feel  sure  that  we  know  the  extent 
of  the  injury." 

"  Oh,  what  a  blessing  that  Aunt  Ann  lives  so  out  of 
the  way !  No  one  has  been  to  the  farm  this  morning 
Who  could  bring  the  news." 

"Yes,  I  saw  that  as  soon  as  Margery  met  me.  I 
thought  it  better  to  talk  with  you,  and,  perhaps,  have 
you  see  Ray  before  the  dear  little  girl  should  be  told." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Exton,  you  don't  think  there  is  any 
danger ! " 

"What  can  I  say,  Miss  Stand ish ?  I  hope  not,  more 
than  I  ever  hoped  for  anything." 

Dreadful  visions  passed  through  Kate's  head  of 
Margery,  pale,  dressed  in  black,  a  crushed,  broken- 
hearted creature. 

"  It  is  too  dreadful.     What  does  the  doctor  say  ?  " 

"  I  left  him  with  Ray.  He  promised  to  stay  until  I 
returned.  He  has  been  very  kind ;  but  he  is  evidently 
glad  I  have  sent  for  Dr.  D ." 

"  If  we  could  only  keep  it  from  Margery,"  said 
Kate,  "  until  we  could  give  a  hopeful  account  of  him." 

"You  shall  decide  that,  and  everything,"  replied 
Exton.  "  I  cannot  tell  you  with  what  a  rush  of  grati 
lude  I  realized  your  nearness  this  morning." 


AT  MRS.  PARKER'S.  319 

"That  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  hear,"  said  Kate  "i 
have  been  feeling  so  superfluous  of  late,  and  at  best  a 
hone  of  contention." 

Exton  looked  at  her  with  an  unmistakable  expres- 
sion, which  surprised  her  even  more  than  the  dis- 
covery about  the  violets.  Her  pulses  beat,  and  she 
grew  warm  beneath  it ;  but  her  intellect  was  not  to  be 
misled  by  her  heart.  Just  because  she  found  herself 
with  him  in  this  simple,  unconventional  spot,  she  was 
not  going  to  forget  who  John  Exton  was,  and  what 
were  his  associates,  life,  and  expectations.  Kate 
always  wanted  everything  clearly  explained,  and,  as 
she  had  not  naturally  doubts  of  her  own  judgment, 
her  own  explanations  were  apt  to  satisfy  her.  She 
had  one  nicely  fitted  in  a  twinkling  to  John  Exton's 
ju?\vly  discovered  interest  in  herself.  He  was  one  of 
those  confirmed  bachelors,  with  nevertheless  warm 
hearts,  who  delight  to  give  pleasure  to  youth,  who 
take  a  generous,  kindly  interest  in  those  unfavored  by 
fortune.  She  had  read  of  such  people.  It  was  natural 
for  any  humane  person  well  acquainted  with  Mrs. 
Exton  to  try  to  save  a  young  woman  with  other 
means  of  support  from  becoming  her  companion.  It 
was  natural  for  this  type  of  humane  person  to  send 
llowers  anonymously  to  a  poverty-stricken  girl  who 
otherwise  would  not  have  any.  It  was  natural  for 
him  now  to  look  at  her  with  an  appreciation  of  her 
position  that  called  forth  his  kindest  pity.  It  was  not 
his  fault  if  the  pity  was  so  near  akin  to  love  that  sha 
could  not  tell  them  apart. 


820  NEXT   DOOR. 

"Here  we  are,"  said  Exton,  turning  to  the  side  o\ 
the  street,  and  stopping  before  a  white  house  with 
green  blinds,  that  stood  close  to  a  sidewalk,  shaded  by 
a  row  of  maples.  Two  stone  steps  led  to  the  front 
door.  Exton  opened  it  without  stopping  to  knock, 
and  Kate  followed  him  to  a  darkened  back  room,  evi- 
dently selected  for  its  quiet,  where  there  was  a  bed, 
and  on  it  a  figure  with  restless  head  turning  from  side 
to  side,  and  talking  incoherently. 

The  doctor  rose  and  came  forward.  "Perhaps  it 
will  be  as  well  for  no  one  but  yourself  to  corne  in,  Mr. 
Exton,"  he  said.  "I  will  go  out  and  try  to  find  a 
nurse.  I  have  left  written  directions  there  that  will 
answer  until  Dr.  D arrives." 

Kate  clung  unconsciously  to  Exton's  arm.  "He  is 
calling  Margery,  do  you  hear?"  she  whispered.  "I 
need  not  go  in?" 

"No,"  said  Exton,  pressing  her  hand  to  his  side. 
"I  told  you,  Dr.  Oakley,  that  the  young  lady  whom 
Mr.  Ingalls  is  to  marry  is  here  in  the  village." 

Dr.  Oakley  bowed  gravely  to  Kate. 

"  This  is  her  sister.  Miss  Standish,  this  is  Dr. 
Oakley.  We  were  wondering  whether  it  would  be 
best  to  keep  Mr.  Ingalls'  condition  a  secret  from  the 
young  lady  until  he  improves." 

"If  you  ask  my  advice  I  should  say  not.  In  my 
jpinion  the  young  man's  condition  is  critical,"  replied 
the  doctor,  promptly. 

"I  wish  he  might  be  moved  to  our  house,"  said 
Kate,  trembling. 


AT  MRS.  PARKER'S.  321 

"Miss  Eaton's?  Impossible  for  some  time  to 
come,  at  best.  He  has  already  been  moved  to  a  dan- 
gerous extent." 

"  I  must  take  this  young  lady  home,"  said  Exton. 
"  I  thought  if  Ray  were  still  in  a  stupor  she  might  see 
him.  I  wonder  if  it  would  be  safe  to  leave  Mrs. 
Parker  with  Ray?" 

"  One  can  do  about  as  much  for  him  as  another,  just 
now,"  said  the  doctor.  "  However,  if  you  will  let  me 
take  your  buggy,  I  will  drive  home  with  Miss  Standish. 
The  woman  I  hope  to  secure  as  a  nurse  lives  just  be- 
yond Miss  Eaton." 

So  it  was  arranged.  Kate  gave  her  hand  to  Exton 
and  turned  away  with  a  sinking  heart.  The  drive 
home  seemed  cruelly  short  to  her.  How  would  Mar- 
gery bear  it !  How  terrible  it  was  to  be  so  helpless  to 
comfort  her! 

It  was  a  little  relief  to  find  when  she  arrived 
at  the  farm  that  the  news  of  the  collision  had 
penetrated  there.  Margery  was  walking  up  and 
down  in  the  shade  beside  the  house,  and,  as  soon 
as  she  saw  the  approaching  buggy,  ran  to  meet  it. 
She  started  at  sight  of  a  strange  man  in  Mr.  Exton'a 
place. 

"  Have  you  heard  of  the  railroad  accident,  Kate  ?  " 
she  demanded.  "I  am  so  frightened  about  Ray.  It 
was  the  train  he  expected  to  come  on."  She  looked 
eearchingly  in  her  sister's  face.  ;'  He  did  come  on  it, 
Dh,  Kate,  Kate  ! " 

The  doctor  leaped  from  the  buggy  and  supported 


822  NEXT   DOOR. 

her.      "Hope  for  the  best,  my  dear  young  lady/'  h« 
Baid,  tritely. 

"Is  he  alive,  then?"  asked  Margery,  resisting  the 
overpowering  faintness. 

"  Yes,  darling,"  said  Kate,  tremulously.  "  This  is 
the  doctor  who  is  taking  care  of  him.  Take  the  reins, 
doctor,  please.  Let  me  come  to  her." 

"  Will  you  get  my  hat  for  me,  Kate  ?  I  arn  too 
weak  to  hurry." 

"What  for,  dear?" 

"  Why,  to  go  back  with  the  doctor,  of  course ;  but 
perhaps  they  are  bringing  him  here." 

"No,  it  was  not  best,"  replied  Kate.  "He  is  with 
Mr.  Exton  at  Mrs.  Parker's.  The  doctor  is  on  hie 
way  to  get  a  nurse,  Margery ;  you  must  not  detain 
him." 

"  Oh,  doctor,  I  could  take  care  of  him ! "  said  Mar- 
gery, pathetically.  "  You  won't  believe  me  because  I 
am  so  young ;  but  I  could,  indeed." 

"My  dear  child,  it  might  be  risking  his  life.  We 
cannot  be  too  careful." 

"  Then,  hurry,"  said  Margery,  feverishly,  "  hurry." 

The  doctor  jumped  into  the  buggy  and  drove  off ; 
and  Kate  put  her  arm  around  her  sister  and  led  her 
toward  the  house. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,  Kate ;  everything  you  know." 
Kate  obeyed,  lovingly  softening  every  discouraging 
detail. 

"Ah!  he  called  me,  did  he?"  asked  Margery,  witli 
•  joyful  brightening  of  her  face.  "  Perhaps  he  waj 


AT  MRS.  PARKER'S.  323 

more  sensible  than  you  thought.  At  all  events,  1 
shall  very  soon  know,"  she  added,  hastening  her  foot* 
steps. 

Mrs.  Exton's  and  Aunt  Ann's  consternation  at  the 
news  was  equal,  but  differently  expressed.  The  for- 
mer fainted  dead  away,  and  was  recovered,  through 
Molly's  long-continued  efforts,  only  to  cry  plaintively 
for  John.  Aunt  Ann's  cheeks  became  very  red,  sure 
sign  with  her  of  great  fatigue  or  strong  emotion,  and 
she  assumed  a  cheerfulness  as  strained  and  unnatural 
as  her  color. 

"Now,  if  we  could  only  have  the  dear  boy  right 
here,  Margery,"  she  said,  "  we  could  have  real  comfort 
nursing  him  up." 

"  You  have  the  horse  harnessed  and  we  will  go  to 
him  directly,"  replied  the  girl.  "  I  have  very  little  to 
do  to  get  ready.  Hurry,  please,  Aunt  Ann." 

"  Wait  till  to-morrow  morning.  Wouldn't  it  be 
better?"  suggested  Kate,  but  very  hesitatingly;  for 
the  doctor's  forebodings  had  been  so  frightful  to  hep 
inexperience  that  she  did  not  feel  sure  that  to-morrow 
\vould  not  be  too  late. 

"  I  am  surprised  at  you,  Kate,"  said  her  sister ;  then 
turning  to  Aunt  Ann :  "  Is  it  perfectly  convenient 
about  the  horse  ?  If  not,  say  so ;  for  I  do  not  mind 
the  walk." 

"  Yes,  it's  convenient,"  said  Aunt  Ann.  "We'll  gof 
Margery." 

Twenty  minutes  later  they  were  on  their  way- 
Hardly  a  word  passed  between  them  until  thej 


S24  NEXT   DOOR. 

reached  their  destination.  "  Perhaps  they  won't  let 
us  see  him  at  all,  dear,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  kindly,  just 
before  they  went  in.  "  You  love  him  enough  to  do 
whatever's  best  for  him,  Margery." 

Aunt  Ann's  words  were  more  sanguine  than  her 
feelings.  She  was  trembling  with  dread  of  the  effect 
upon  Margery  of  seeing  Ray.  She  made  her  sit  down 
in  the  parlor  until  Mrs.  Parker  had  summoned  Exton, 
who  came  very  promptly.  He  was  struck  at  once 
with  the  great  change  in  Margery  from  the  laughing 
girl  of  a  couple  of  hours  ago.  She  rose  as  he  entered 
the  room,  and  came  to  meet  him. 

"  Has  the  nurse  arrived  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes,  she  has  just  come." 

"  How  soon  will  Dr.  D be  here  ?" 

"  In  about  an  hour." 

"Is  Ray  conscious?" 

"  He  is  delirious  nearly  all  the  time ;  but  the^e  are 
moments  when  a  sensible  look  comes  into  his  eyes, 
and  that  makes  me  hopeful." 

"  Can  I  see  him  now  ?  " 

Exton  looked  at  her  in  admiring  surprise.  She  was 
BO  quiet.  Poor  Margery !  She  knew  that  composure 
would  be  her  only  passport  into  the  sick-room. 

"  Will  you  not  wait  until  Dr.  D comes  ? "  he 

Rsked,  gently. 

Margery  began  to  tremble  violently.  "  Do  not  keep 
me  out ;  I  must  see  him,"  she  said,  softly,  clasping  her 
hands.  "You  can  tell  in  a  moment  if  my  presence  hai 
i  bad  effect,  and  I  will  leave  him  immediately." 


AT  MRS.  PARKER'S.  325 

Aunt  Ann  looked  helplessly  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  Mr.  Exton,  you  mean  to  be  kind ;  but  can  you  not 
understand  what  it  is  to  me  to  be  wasting  these  min- 
utes?" Margery  took  hold  of  Exton's  hand  as  she 
spoke,  and  the  intense  pleading  in  her  blue  eyes  was 
not  to  be  withstood. 

"  Come,"  he  said.  "  Miss  Eaton,  will  you  wait 
here?" 

Aunt  Ann  bowed  her  head  in  silence. 

Margery  followed  him  to  the  door  of  the  sick-room. 
They  could  hear  Ray's  rambling,  broken  talk.  She 
felt  as  if  her  heart  would  burst  to  hear  the  beloved 
voice.  Exton  opened  the  door  and  she  walked  in. 
The  nurse  was  sitting  there.  She  looked  up  in  sur- 
prise at  the  apparition  of  the  pale,  pretty  girl,  who 
crossed  the  room  noiselessly,  sank  on  her  knees  beside 
the  bed,  took  the  patient's  right  hand,  and  looked 
steadily  into  his  eyes.  Ray's  expression  changed. 
He  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"  Margery,"  he  said,  and  then  was  still. 

Margery,  without  looking  up,  lifted  her  other  hand 
to  Exton,  who  stood  beside  her.  He  pressed  it,  and 
then  took  his  seat  at  a  little  distance.  Minutes  passed. 
Ray  remained  quiet,  with  his  eyes  closed,  and  his  hand 
in  Margery's.  Exton  brought  a  little  chair,  and  tried 
to  indu.ce  her  to  change  her  position  ;  but  she  shook 
her  head. 

At  last  he  left  the  room.  Margery  knew  he  had 
to  meet  the  doctor.  A  few  minutes  after  his 
,  the  nurse,  who  was  a  stout  woman,  in 


826  NEXT  DOOR. 

attire  guiltless  of  whalebone,  came  heavily  to  the 
bedside. 

"  It  is  time  for  his  medicine,"  she  whispered,  huskily. 

"  But  I  think  he  is  asleep,"  replied  Margery. 

The  nurse  shook  her  head  peremptorily.  "  Stupor. 
He's  more  dangerous  when  he's  this  way.  He's  got 
to  have  his  medicine.  Move,  please." 

The  patient  stirred  restlessly  as  the  spoon  was  put  be- 
tween his  lips,  and  Margery  was  obliged  to  release  his 
hand.  He  began  to  talk  again  incoherently,  growing 
louder  and  louder,  and  more  excited,  until  she  was  ter- 
rified. The  nurse  kept  her  station  jealously  beside  the 
bed,  waving  a  palm-leaf  fan  back  and  forth.  After  what 
seemed  to  Margery  an  age  of  waiting,  the  door  opened, 
and  Mr.  Exton  and  the  famous  surgeon  walked  in. 

A  sob  rose  in  Margery's  throat.  She  cast  one  glanco 
toward  the  bed,  and  went  quietly  out  of  the  room. 
She  found  Aunt  Ann  where  she  had  left  her  in  the 
parlor.  Mrs.  Parker  was  sitting  with  her,  and  Aunt 
Ann  introduced  her  niece.  Margery  shook  hands  with 
the  hostess  very  cordially,  and  spoke  so  warmly  of 
the  latter's  share  of  the  trouble  that  had  come  to 
them,  that  the  good  woman's  heart  was  won.  Artful 
Margery !  She  had  designs  upon  Mrs.  Parker's  hospi- 
tality. 

"How  did  you  find  him?"  asked  Aunt  Ann, eagerly, 
deceived  by  the  excitement  in  Margery's  manner. 

"  The  doctor  has  just  come,  you  know,"  replied  the 
pirl.  "  We  shall  hear  his  verdict  soon,  I  hope ;  and 
after  that,  Aunt  Ann,  don't  wait  any  longer  for  me." 


AT  MRS.  PARKER'S.  321 

"  But  you're  coming  home,  child." 

"I  cannot  possibly  go.  Mrs.  Parker  will  give  me 
some  little  place  where  I  can  sleep.  If  I  stay  with 
Kay,  I  think  he  will  live.  If  I  leave  him,  I  am  sure 
he  will  die." 

"  She'll  have  to  stay,  I  guess,  Miss  Eaton,  if  she 
feels  that  way,"  said  Mrs.  Parker,  indulgently,  with  a 
furtive  wink  at  Aunt  Ann.  "  She  can  come  home  in 
a  day  or  two,  you  know,  when  the  young  man's  better." 

"  Well,  I  declare,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  wiping  her  eyes, 
"  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  Poor,  dear  Ray.  My  poor 
boy." 

Here  Mr.  Exton  appeared.  All  three  women  started 

to  their  feet  at  sight  of  his  grave  face.  "  Dr.  D 

wants  you,  Margery,"  he  said,  hastily.  Margery  went 
with  him  without  a  word. 

"  Ray  is  so  excited.  I  spoke  of  you  to  the  doctor, 
and  he  wishes  to  try  your  effect  upon  him  again.  Do 
just  what  you  did  before,  as  nearly  as  you  can." 

Margery  went  in,  and  kneeling  by  the  bedside  again 
took  the  restless  hand,  and  met  the  roving  eyes  with 
a  loving  little  smile,  infinitely  sad  and  sweet. 

Ray  rested  his  eyes  upon  her,  talked  more  slowly, 
and  at  last  grew  still. 

The  doctor's  face  relaxed.  "  Invaluable,"  he  said  to 
Ex  ton. 

He  sent  the  nurse  from  the  room  on  some  errand. 

Margery  looked  at  him  with  a  significance  which 
made  him  stoop  to  her  side. 

"That  woman  must  go  away.     She  does  harm,"  she 


B28  NEXT   DOOR. 

Raid,  distinctly.  "I  am  strong,  and  will  do  in  hei 
place.  Tell  them." 

The  doctor  stood  up.  "  She  knows  enough  not  to 
whisper,"  he  thought.  "  Any  way,  we  can  make  the 
trial." 

He  beckoned  Exton  out  of  the  room.  "That  nurse 
won't  do.  I  thought  so,  and  the  young  lady  says  so. 
She  must  go.  I  shall  know  to-morrow  more  than  I  do 
now  about  this  case.  After  that  it  will  be  time  to  send 
to  Boston  for  a  nurse  if  there  is  necessity  for  one." 

The  sinister  closing  of  the  doctor's  sentence  gave 
Exton  the  keenest  pang  of  apprehension  he  had  yet 
experienced.  From  that  moment  Margery  was  queen 
in  the  sick-room.  The  nurse  was  dismissed  with  a 
mollifying  bank-note ;  and  the  tenderest  and  wisest 
care  watched  over  Ray  through  the  long  night.  Mar- 
gery refused  to  leave  him  for  a  moment ;  and,  indeed, 
when  the  doctor  saw  the  effect  upon  the  patient  of 
missing  her  from  his  side,  she  was  no  longer  urged  to 
rest. 

Toward  morning  Ray  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep,  a 
sign  which  Margery,  eagerly  watching  the  doctor's 
face,  could  see  was  hopeful.  Upon  awaking,  Ray 
looked  quite  tranquilly  at  Margery,  and  spoke  her 
name ;  and,  as  the  day  wore  on,  these  lucid  periods  grew 
longer.  During  one  of  the  short  naps  into  which  he 
frequently  fell,  Margery  drew  the  doctor  outside  the 
room. 

"You  feel  quite  easy  now  about  him,  doctor?"  she 
&sked,  eagerly. 


A.T  MRS.  PARKER'S.  329 

tt  If  he  gets  well,  my  dear  young  lady,  you  shall 
be  the  doctor  who  gets  the  credit,"  was  the  reply, 
RS  the  speaker  looked  into  the  large  blue  eyes, 
with  their  dark  circles.  "  I  do  feel  hopeful ;  but 
I  do  not  think  at  best  that  there  can  be  a  quick 
recovery  for  our  patient.  We  must  make  up  our 
minds  for  a  siege." 

"  We  should  be  grateful  to  do  that,  with  victory  at 
the  end,"  she  replied,  bravely,  and  went  back  to  Ray's 
Bide.  The  next  time  he  woke,  he  put  his  hand  out 
toward  hers.  It  was  the  first  sensible  motion  he  had 
made.  It  was  evident  that  for  the  time  he  knew  her 
perfectly,  and  realized  her  care  for  him. 

"  He  will  get  well,"  thought  Margery,  with  a  thrill 
of  joy;  "but  I  must  be  with  him  night  and  day."  She 
was  fully  imbued  with  the  idea  that  his  life  depended 
upon  her  proximity. 

The  next  time  she  left  the  room  she  met  Exton  in 
the  hall. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  been  out  breathing  the  air," 
ehe  said  ;  for  he  looked  full  of  vitality. 

"  I  had  to  go  to  my  mother.  She  had  heard  that 

Dr.  D was  here,  and  she  insisted  upon  seeing 

him.  I  knew  he  must  not  leave  Ray  to-day,  so  I 
rode  up  to  the  farm,  and  pacified  her  as  well  as  I 
could.  She  is  very  much  broken  by  all  this  agita- 
tion. Have  you  needed  me?  I  hurried  as  fast  as  I 
was  able." 

"  No ;  Ray  has  been  asleep  much  of  the  time.  The 
doctor  and  I  have  both  Leen  with  nim.'* 


B39  NEXT   DOOR. 

"  I  nave  a  note  for  you  from  your  sister,"  said  Exton, 
taking  it  from  his  pocket;  "and  they  all  sent  love. 
Won't  you  go  outdoors  for  a  few  minutes,  and  let  me 
take  your  place?" 

"  No,  not  yet,  thank  you ;  I  am  nowhere  near  tired 
out.  That  is  my  one  talent  —  health."  She  smiled  at 
Exton,  and  paused.  "  I  am  going  to  take  advantage 
of  what  you  said  the  day  Ray  was  hurt,"  she  contin- 
ued, finally.  "It  seems  about  a  month  ago.  Do  you 
remember  you  said  I  must  come  to  you  with  all  my 
wishes,  certain  of  your  sympathy  ?  " 

"Yes,  dear  little  niece.  I  meant  it  then,  and  I  mean 
it  a  hundredfold  more  since  I  have  had  a  glimpse  of 
your  strong,  sweet  character." 

"  Well,"  said  Margery,  coming  closer  to  him,  and 
looking  up  with  a  childlike  appeal,  "do  you  think  in  a 
few  days,  if  Ray  gets  better,  gets  to  know  me  for,  say, 
an  hour  at  a  time,  do  you  think  it  would  do  him  any 
harm  if  I  were  to  marry  him  ?  " 

The  proposition  surprised  Exton  so  completely  that 
for  a  minute  he  did  not  answer. 

"  Then,"  continued  Margery,  "  no  one  could  make 
any  objection  to  anything,  and  they  could  not  insist 
upon  sending  to  Boston  for  another  nurse." 

"  We  cannot  let  you  ruin  your  health." 

"  No ;  I  would  promise  to  be  sensible." 

Exton  looked  at  her.  Where  were  the  variouj  con- 
siderations that  had  looked  so  weighty  a  week  ago,— . 
Kate's  future,  Mrs.  Exton's  consent,  Ray's  temporary 
poverty  ?  All  swallowed  up  in  this  one  absorbing  be* 


AT  MRS.  PARKER'S.  331 

Kef  that  she  was  necessary  to  her  lover's  renewed 
health.  A  belief  that  Exton  could  not  help  sharing 
with  almost  superstitious  earnestness. 

"You  have  cut  the  Gordian  knot,  Margery,"  he  said. 
"I  should  not  be  surprised  if  your  loving  intuition  had 
^elected  the  quickest,  surest  means  to  Ray's  recovery/ 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
MRS.  EXTON  IS  SHOCKED. 

IT  was  at  this  troublesome  time  that  Aunt  Ann 
more  than  ever  regretted  her  acceptance  of  Mrs.  Exton, 
as  a  summer  boarder.  It  would  have  been  sad  enough 
at  the  farm  without  the  perpetual  annoyance  of  her 
complaints;  and  perhaps  the  counter-irritation  she 
inflicted  was  not  wholly  undesirable  for  her  hostess 
and  Kate.  The  latter  was  in  a  strange  state.  She 
wondered  at  herself  for  feeling  anything  but  grief; 
but  her  unrest,  her  anxiety,  her  very  sadness  for  Mar- 
gery were  tempered  by  a  nameless,  unreasonable  joy, 
that  stole  into  her  heart  whenever  the  pressure  of  care 
lifted  ever  so  slightly.  Of  course,  this  subtle  happi- 
ness must  have  an  explanation. 

"  It  astonishes  me  to  find  how  relieved  I  am  that  I 
am  not  going  to  be  Mrs.  Exton's  companion,"  she  said 
to  Aunt  Ann,  and  so  saying  explained  it  to  her  own 
satisfaction. 

"My  dear,  it  shames  me  to  think  of  setting  up  our 

little  troubles  at  a  time  like  this,"  responded  her  aunt; 

"  but  upon  my  word  that  woman's  peevishness  beats 

all.     It  frets  her  most  to  death,  I  do  believe,  to  think 

332 


MRS.  EXTON  IS   SHOCKED.  333 

there's  somebody  in  town  sicker'n  she  is,  even  though 
it's  her  own  flesh  and  blood.  There's  that  dear  boy 
not  out  of  danger  yet ;  and  still  she  can  think  of  her- 
self  more  than  him,  and  be  jealous  of  him  because  he 
keeps  John  down  there.  Oh,"  sighing  heavily,  "I 
do  hope  Mr.  Exton'll  come  up  and  tussle  with  her 
to-day.  It  always  quiets  her  down  for  a  while,  any 
way." 

"Perhaps  I  had  better  go  and  read  to  her,"  sug- 
gested Kate.  "  I  dare  say  it  would  be  as  good  for  me 
as  for  her.  It  is  such  a  strange  experience  to  be  sep- 
arated from  Margery,  and  know  her  to  be  undergoing 
such  fatigue  and  anxiety,  and  yet  not  be  permitted  to 
help  her.  Anything  that  will  kill  time  and  divert  my 
mind  is  a  blessing." 

"Well,  now,  don't  worry,  dear.  It  is  all  in  the 
Lord's  hands.  Realize  that,  don't  simply  say  it,  and 
it  will  do  you  a  world  of  good.  Mr.  Exton  says,  you 
know,  that  Margery  is  keeping  up  wonderfully,  and 
that  they  don't  dare  to  spare  her,  she  seems  to  do  Ray 
so  much  good.  Well,  then,  she's  in  the  way  of  her 
duty,  and  she'll  be  supported.  I'm  tempted  to  fret 
over  it  a  good  deal  myself;  but  I  can't  leave  home 
just  now,  and  probably  they  wouldn't  have  me  there 
if  I  could  go.  So  my  duty  is  plain  enough."  And 
Aunt  Ann  gave  Kate  an  encouraging  little  pat  on  the 
fchoulder,  as  she  passed  her  to  go  into  the  china  closet. 

"  Well,"  said  Kate,  "I  will  go  to  Mrs.  Exton." 

"I  will  say  for  you  that  your  patience  with  her  is 
tsweet,"  said  Aunt  Ann. 


B34  NEXT   DOOR. 

Kate  blushed.  "  Only  since  I  have  known  that  she 
had  no  claim  upon  me." 

She  took  a  hook,  and  went  up  stairs  to  Mrs.  Exton'a 
room. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  finally  decided  to  come,"  was 
her  welcome.  "  No  one  seems  to  consider  what  it  is  to 
me  to  sit  here  alone  with  my  horrible  apprehensions 
about  Ray.  Even  Molly  has  been  gone  a  preposterous 
length  of  time,  and  I  have  no  bell  to  call  any  one." 

"It  is  growing  warm  up  here,"  answered  Kate. 
"  Don't  you  think  you  might  get  down  to  the  piazza  ? 
I  have  found  a  story  that  I  am  sure  you  will  like." 

"  Oh,  of  course,  if  it  is  too  warm  for  you  to  sit  here, 
I  could  not  ask  you  to  do  so." 

"  It  is  not  so  uncomfortable  for  me  as  it  will  be  for 
you  in  your  weak  condition.  Let  me  help  you  down." 

"  My  son  ought  to  be  here,"  was  the  fretful  reply. 
"I  fully  expected  to  have  the  pleasure  and  comfort  of 
his  society  during  his  vacation." 

"  Surely  none  of  us  expected  the  present  sad  state 
of  affairs,"  replied  Kate,  assisting  the  old  lady  to  rise. 

With  some  difficulty  she  helped  her  down  to  the 
piazza,  and  seated  her  in  a  rocking-chair.  The  girl 
had  such  a  firm,  deft  way  with  her,  and  was  so  strong 
withal,  Mrs.  Exton  breathed  a  sigh  when  she  found 
herself  comfortably  ensconced,  a  sigh  for  the  vanished 
prospect  of  Kate's  steady  companionship.  Her  pride 
kept  her  from  putting  her  thoughts  into  words.  She 
now  felt  a  real  dislike  for  Margery,  and  would  hava 
preferred  to  scorn  Kate ;  but  the  latter  still  exercised, 


MRS.  EXTON   IS   SHOCKED. 

RS  she  had  from  the  evening  of  their  first  meeting,  a 
fascination  over  the  old  lady  which  made  the  latter 
eager,,  in  spite  of  herself,  for  the  charm  of  her  pres- 
ence, 

Kate  opened  the  book,  and  began  reading;  but  be* 
fore  long  Mrs.  Exton  interrupted  her. 

"Excuse  me.  Who  is  that  turning  into  the  drive? 
Is  it  my  son  ?  " 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes ;  it  is  ! "  exclaimed  Kate,  joyfully. 
"  Now  we  shall  hear  the  news." 

She  would  have  left  her  chair  but  for  the  jealousy 
of  her  companion,  who  she  knew  would  be  highly  dis- 
pleased should  she  receive  the  first  of  Mr.  Exton's 
communication.  Mrs.  Exton  watched  his  approach 
with  an  unsmiling  expression  of  long  suffering.  He 
tied  his  horse  in  the  shade,  then  came  swiftly  across 
the  lawn  and  up  the  steps. 

"How  do  you  do  to-day,  mother?"  he  asked,  kissing 
her;  then  he  shook  hands  with  Kate,  and  seated  him- 
self ovi  the  step  close  by  his  mother's  feet, 

"  I  think  you  must  know  how  I  would  feel  under 
these  circumstances,"  replied  the  latter,  severely. 
"How  is  Ray?" 

"  On  the  whole,  improving;  but  he  requires  constant 
watching  and  care." 

"That  may  be,"  said  Mrs.  Exton;  "but  of  how 
many  people?  I  should  think,  John,  that  you  might 
occasionally  recollect  my  needs," 

"  That  is  what  I  am  doing  now.  Be  sure  my  incli- 
nation is  to  be  up  here  in  this  breezy  spot  all  the  time, 


336  NEXT   DOOR. 

and,  by  the  way,  how  well  it  is  agreeing  with  you !  Tn 
spite  of  all  that  has  occurred,  you  are  looking  very 
well." 

Mrs.  Exton  glared  at  him  in  amazement,  and  then 
Bmiled  a  smile  of  contempt  for  masculine  penetration. 

"  I  could  have  told  you,  Miss  Standish,  that  if  I 
dragged  myself  out  here  upon  the  piazza  I  should 
immediately  be  pronounced  well,"  she  said. 

"  I  wish  pronouncing  you  so  would  make  you  well," 
said  Kate,  pacifically.  "  Margery  must  be  keeping  up, 
Mr.  Exton,  or  you  would  have  told  me  at  once." 

"  She  is  doing  nobly.  If  you  could  hear  the  things 

Dr.  D says  about  her,  you  would  be  proud  of 

her." 

"It  is  quite  time  she  came  back  here,"  said  Mrs. 
Exton,  irritably.  "  Of  course  Ray  likes  to  have  her 
there;  he  would  not  have  any  judgment  about  it; 
but  so  long  as  immediate  danger  is  past,  I  consider 
that  her  remaining  with  him  is  not  only  unnecessary, 
but  positively  indelicate.  No  lady  would  —  " 

"  Mother ! "  exclaimed  Exton,  stopping  her  with  a 
look  such  as  she  had  never  received  from  him  before. 
"  Not  another  word  of  that  sort." 

Mrs.  Exton  turned  sharply  to  Kate.  "Perhaps  you 
had  better  leave  us,  Miss  Standish,  if  your  presence 
causes  my  son  so  far  to  forget  himself  as  to  dictate  to 
his  mother." 

"Pray  remain  where  you  are,"  ordered  John,  his 
brows  knitted  in  a  stern  look,  in  which  Kate  exulted 
despite  the  fact  of  its  falling  upon  her.  The  humane 


MRS.  EXTON   IS   SHOCKED.  337 

confirmed  bachelor  would  be  a  stanch  protector  and 
friend  to  Margery.  She  could  see  that.  "I  consider 
Margery  as  already  my  niece.  I  will  not  hear  one 
criticism  of  her  sweet,  womanly  behavior,"  he  finished. 

"  Well ! "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Exton,  her  delicate  face 
deeply  red. 

<;  Since  Margery's  position  strikes  you,  mother,  as 
anomalous,  I  think  it  should  be  altered."  He  turned 
to  Kate  with  a  gentle  change  of  manner.  "  She  could 
not  be  induced  to  leave  Ray,  I  am  sure,  and  I  agree 
with  her  in  believing  her  presence  to  be  a  great  advan- 
tage to  him.  It  would  obviate  every  difficulty  if  they 
could  be  married  now  in  a  day  or  two." 

"John  Exton!"  exclaimed  his  mother,  "are  you 
crazy?  I  will  not  give  my  consent,"  she  finished,  her 
Voice  trembling  with  anger. 

"  Why  not  now  as  well  as  any  time?" 

•'I  have  no  intention  of  ever  giving  it.  I  do  not 
like  the  match.  It  is  a  misalliance,  undesirable  in 
every  way.  It  shall  not  be  while  I  have  breath  to 
oppose  it." 

Kate  was  terribly  pale,  and  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears.  They  gave  Exton  a  wild  pang. 

"  Mother,  you  destroy  my  faith  in  you.  No  one  but 
yourself  could  have  made  me  believe  that  you  would 
say  such  words  before  Margery's  sister.  Your  consent 
to  this  marriage  is  of  the  smallest  importance.  All  my 
support,  affectionate  and  financial,  is  at  the  service  of 
these  young  people,  who,  unless  Ray  is  worse,  wiiJ 
certainly  be  married  before  tw<?  days  are  over." 


'B3B  NEXT  BOOR. 

"  Does  Margery  wish  it  ?  "  asked  Kate,  brokenly. 
Exton  bowed.  "  It  is  lier  dearest  wish,"  he  said. 
"It  was  her  suggestion  ! "  flashed  into  Kate's  mind. 

OO  ^* 

and  again  her  heart  grew  warm  toward  John  Exton. 
'Toward  his  impotent,  selfish  mother,  she  could  feel 
only  pity.  The  poor  woman,  belittled  and  defeated, 
had  burst  into  tears  —  tears  of  the  bitterest  mortifica- 
tion, 

John  leaned  over  her  and  she  did  not  repulse  him. 
Dearer  than  all  the  world  beside,  she  could  not  afford 
to  lose  his  love. 

•  "  How  can  you  ever  forgive '  yourself,  John  ?  "  she 
sobbed. 

He  put  his  arm  around  her.  "  I  could  forgive  you 
more  easily,  mother,  if  you  would  apologize  to  Miss 
Standish,"  he  said,  firmly.  "  You  must  have  forgotten 
her  presence  when  you  spoke  a  minute  ago.  Say  so ; 
.do  not  let  her  think  so  badly  of  us." 
'  "Miss  Standish  is  not  so  unreasonable  as  you  are. 
She  does  not  expect  an  unhappy,  lonely,  sick  woman 
to  be  always  thinking  of  conventionalities." 

"  I  expect  my  mother  to  let  me  look  up  to  her,"  said 
John,  gently  persistent.  "  Miss  Standish,"  he  turned 
to  where  Kate  had  been  sitting,  but  no  one  was  there, 

"It  is  too  late,"  he  added,  briefly;  "she  has  gone." 

"I  should  think  it  was  time,"  was  the  pettish  reply. 
"  She  should  have  left  me  as  soon  as  you  came.  Then 
ghe  would  have  heard  nothing  disagreeable." 

Exton  straightened  himself  with  a  sigh  of  exaspera- 
tion. "  Well,"  he  said,  "  when  you  wish  me  to  feel 


MRS.  EXTON  IS   SHOCKED.  339 

toward  you  as  I  always  have  done,  you  can  make  that} 
apology." 

"  So  you  make  conditions  with  me ! "  exclaimed  the 
other,  in  pitiful  astonishment.  "It  has  come  to  this! 
Ah,  I  am  thankful  that  poor  Irene  died  before  this  day. 
Her  boy  married  to  a  penniless  girl  of  no  family.  Her 
mother  set  at  naught  and  humbled  before  a  young 
working-woman !  Oh,  John  !  what  has  changed  you  so 
terribly?  What  has  come  between  us?" 

"I  hope  I  may  tell  you  some  time,  mother.  If  I 
do  it  will  mean  my  lifelong  happiness." 

"  Why,  this  is  the  worst  of  all ! "  exclaimed  the  other. 
"  Four  lifelong  happiness!  What  can  you  mean?" 

Exton  replied,  without  meeting  her  eyes,  full  of 
apprehensive  amazement,  "  I  have  not  the  answer  yet 
to  give  you." 

"  But  it  sounds  as  though  you  wanted  to  be  married, 
John." 

"I  do." 

Mrs.  Exton  started.  She  ran  over  in  her  mind 
every  eligible  woman  of  her  acquaintance.  It  is  need- 
less to  say  that  Kate  did  not  enter  into  her  calcula- 
tions. She  was  completely  taken  by  surprise  and 
doubly  appalled  at  the  thought  of  losing  her  son's 
confidence  at  such  a  critical  time. 

"What  should   hinder  you,  then,  my  dear?"  she 
asked,   tremblingly.     ''  You    do   not   heshate   on   my 
account,  I  hope.     My  greatest  wish,  now  that  I  have 
Dot  long  to  live,  is  to  be  assured  of  your  happiness." 
,     Her  plaintive  tone,  her  weakness,  the  reference  to 


540  NEXT  DOOR. 

her  death  —  the  latter  a  very  rare  thing  with  her-* 
touched  him. 

"  Thank  you,  mother.  I  have  not  much  hope  that 
you  will  approve  my  choice." 

u  Your  taste  could  not  err,"  she  answered,  proudly. 

"And  I  have  very  little  hope  —  no  reasonable  hope 
at  all  —  that  I  shall  be  successful." 

Mrs.  Exton  threw  back  her  head  in  a  significant  ges- 
ture. 

"  But  she  is  the  only  woman  I  will  ever  marry.  If 
I  may  not  have  her,  there  will  never  be  anybody  else." 

His  mother  looked  at  him  fondly.  "  Happy  woman, 
whoever  she  is,"  she  thought ;  "  beautiful,  rich,  bear- 
ing an  honored  name,  how  blessed  she  will  be  when 
she  finds  that  John  Exton  loves  her,"  she  sighed.  She 
had  been  deeply  incensed  with  her  son  a  short  time 
ago,  but  this  wonderful  confidence  extinguished  every 
trace  of  hard  feeling. 

Aunt  Ann  and  Kate  came  into  sight  on  the  lawn, 
and  passed  down  toward  the  old-fashioned  well  and 
stood  there  talking. 

"  Which  do  you  want  me  to  please  when  I  marry, 
mother,  myself  or  you  ?  " 

"  That  implies  a  very  harsh  criticism  of  me,  dear," 
she  answered,  gently.  "I  do  not  think  I  deserve  it. 
This  strange  marriage  that  you  wish  to  bring  about  for 
Ray  offends  my  taste,  of  course,  and  I  see  that  you  are 
determined  to  make  me  of  no  account  in  the  matter 
Very  well ;  I  can  bear  it.  I  can  bear  anything  with 
•omparative  indifference  that  does  not  have  directly  U 


MRS.  EXTON   IS   SHOCKED.  341 

flo  with  you,  my  son.  Your  personal  movements  are 
my  great,  my  only  interest  in  life.  It  gratifies  me  un« 
speakably  that  you  should  have  confided  in  me,  John. 
Do  you  think  I  am  doubtful  of  your  choice  ?  Not  at 
all.  The  woman  you  love  is  beautiful,  at  least  in  you! 
eyes?" 

"  She  is." 

"She  has  position?" 

"  No ;  she  is  poor." 

"  That  is  of  little  consequence ;  you  are  rich." 

"  I  shall  be  if  I  win  her." 

"She  is  a  woman  we  shall  be  proud  of  under  any 
and  all  circumstances?" 

"Yes."  Exton  thought  a  moment  gravely;  then 
he  continued,  "  I  believe  it  will  be  best  to  confide  in 
you  further,  to  make  a  test  of  your  love." 

Mrs.  Exton  bowed  her  head. 

"The  woman  I  wish  to  marry  is  not  far  away. 
That  is  she  standing  over  there  with  her  hand  on  the 
well-sweep." 

Mrs.  Exton  looked  slowly  in  the  direction  indicated, 
and  a  stony  change  came  over  her  face. 

"  Do  you  mean  Kate  Standish  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes." 

A  dry  sob  rose  in  her  throat.  She  recalled  slowly 
and  painfully  all  he  had  said.  She  felt  the  absolute 
hopelessness  of  protest. 

"  My  son,  you  have  broken  my  heart !  "  she  answered. 

Exton  put  his  hand  upon  the  arm  of  her  chair. 
*  No,"  he  said ;  "  there  is  nothing  in  that  news  to  break 


842  NEXT   DOOR. 

your  heart.  Would  she  be  any  less  charming  as  a 
daughter  than  as  a  companion  ?  What  attribute  does 
she  lack  that  you  desire  in  my  wife?  Remember,  the 
only  hope  I  have  is  born  of  my  own  wishes.  She  has 
not  given  me  a  shadow  of  reason  for  it." 

Mrs.  Exton  sat  as  one  stunned. 

"  Be  kind  to  her,  mother,  for  both  our  sakes.  I  rely 
upon  your  affection." 

Still  she  did  not  speak. 

"I  must  be  going,"  he  said  at  last.  "I  promised 
Margery  not  to  stay  long.  There  are  some  sad  scenes 
down  in  that  house.  Well,"  he  paused,  looked  into 
the  white,  immobile  face,  and  drew  a  long  breath  as 
he  stepped  down  upon  the  grass,  "  I  will  try  to  see  you 
every  day." 

She  let  him  go  in  silence.  He  mounted  his  horse, 
and,  riding  slowly  across  the  lawn,  drew  rein  beside 
Aunt  Ann  and  Kate,  who  turned  grave  faces  toward 
him.  He  saw  that  Kate  had  been  crying. 
,  "  Margery  asked  me  to  give  you  her  best  love,  Miss 
Kate,  and  to  ask  you  and  Miss  Eaton  to  come  down  to 
Mrs.  Parker's  to-morrow  morning.  If  Hay  seems  able 
they  will  be  married  then.  If  not,  it  will  be  on  the 
next  day." 

"Does  the  doctor  feel  safe  about  him  now  ?"  asked 
Aunt  Ann. 

"I  think  he  does ;  but  Margery  is  the  bravest  of  us 
all.  Her  faith  does  not  waver.  I  hope  you  approve 
of  her  course,  Miss  Kate  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  the  girl,     "if  Kay  lives,  it  is  bette» 


MRS.  EXTON   IS    SHOCKED.  343 

Mint  Margery  should  be  married  to  him.  If  he  should 
die,  it  would  be  a  comfort  to  her  to  bear  his  name.  I 
meant  to  have  written  a  note  to  send  her  by  you,  but 
the  right  words  would  not  come."  Kate's  eyes  filled 
again. 

"  But  I  may  say  you  will  come  to-morrow  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  Aunt  Ann  for  her,  "we  will 
come  to-morrow."  Exton  lifted  his  hat  and  rode 
away.  Kate  'wiped  her  eyes  and  went  back  to  Mrs. 
Exton.  The  best  panacea  for  her  trouble  would  be  to 
feel  herself  of  use.  She  stepped  up  on  the  piazza. 

"  Shall  we  go  on  with  our  story,  Mrs.  Exton?"  she 
asked,  pleasantly. 

The  invalid  was  sitting  in  an  unusually  erect  posture 
Her  face  looked  firm  although  very  pale. 

"No,  I  thank  you,"  she  answered,  clearly.  Kate 
was  struck  by  the  indefinable  change  in  her  voice  and 
manner.  "I  have  had  a  bright  thought  since  you  left 
me.  I  received  a  letter  from  my  sister  last  night.  She 
is  something  of  an  invalid  and  spends  her  time  largely 
at  resorts,  both  summer  and  winter.  She  believes  that 
nothing  is  so  good  for  her  as  diversion.  I  have  always 
shrunk  from  being  with  her  until  now;  but  I  have 
suddenly  determined  to  join  her." 

"I  am  sure  that  the  very  best  thing  for  you  would 
be  to  have  your  mind  so  pleasantly  employed  that  you 
had  not  time  to  think  of  your  feelings,"  replied  Kate. 
"You  are  better  already,  only  for  entertaining  the 
thought.  You  seem  like  a  different  person." 

"  I  feel  like  a  different  person,"  responded  the  other, 


844  NEXT   DOOR. 

looking  at  her  with  strange  scrutiny,  "  and  I  long  to 
be  gone,"  she  added,  suddenly,  rising. 

"  Let  me  help  you,"  said  Kate,  starting  forward. 

"Do  not  touch  me."  The  command  was  so  sharp 
that  the  girl  stood  back  in  surprise.  Mrs.  Exton 
smiled.  "  Let  us  see  if  I  am  a  different  person,"  she 
added,  and  then  to  Kate's  amazement  she  walked  into 
the  house  without  support  of  any  kind.  In  a  moment 
the  girl  heard  her  calling  Molly,  in  a  voice  full  acd 
penetrating. 


CHAPTER  XXTX. 

"THEE  LOVED  I  EVER." 

THE  following  morning  dawned  fresh  and  bright 
A  little  sunshine  was  for  the  first  time  admitted  to 
Rwy's  room.  Margery,  pale,  but  with  a  gentle  serenity 
in  her  blue  eyes,  sat  beside  his  bed,  waiting  for  him  to 
take  some  notice  of  her.  At  last  his  heavy  lids  lifted. 

"Where  are  we,  Margery?"  he  asked.  He  had 
put  the  same  question  half  a  dozen  times  since  yester« 
day  morning. 

"  In  the  same  place,"  she  answered,  smoothing  his 
short  dark  hair.  "  It  is  very  pleasant,  isn't  it,  for  us 
to  have  so  much  time  together?  It  almost  reconciles 
us  to  having  you  sick." 

"  Where  is  the  doctor?" 

"  He  is  just  outside.     Shall  I  call  him  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't  want  any  one  but  you.  What  makes 
Hay  head  feel  so  strange." 

"It  was  hurt.  There  is  a  little  bruise  up  here  on  the 
Bide.  Just  think,  it  might  have  been  on  your  forehead 
pud  spoiled  it."  Margery  kissed  it  lightly. 

"  How  good  you  are  to  stay  with  me.  You  will  go 
xrith  me  to  the  concert,  Margery?  No  matter  what 
345 


846  NEXT   DOOR. 

Kate  says.  She  ought  to  be  married.  It  is  too  bad 
to  think  —  what,  what  is  it,  Margery?" 

"Yes,  Ray,  I  am  going  everywhere  with  you.  You 
like  to  have  me  with  you  all  the  time,  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,  I  want  you,  dear,  I  need  you." 

Margery  trembled.  .She  dreaded i  to  say  the  wrong 
thing.  There  seemed  such  a  thin  dividing  line  be- 
tween his  sanity  and  delirium. 

"  When  we  are  married  I  need  never  leave  you," 
ghe  murmured. 

••     »•     .         vilij      .    •.     - 

"  No.  We  are  going  to  be  married,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing- 

"When,  Ray,  how  soon?" 

"  Very  soon.  It  is  all  nonsense  to  wait,  I  say.  I 
have  money  enough." 

"Plenty,  I  am  sure,"  said  Margery,  soothingly. 
"Why  couldn't  we  be  married  now,  Ray?" 

"  While  I  am  sick  ?  "   he  said,  eagerly. 

She  laid  her  cool  cheek  gently  against  his.  "  Yes.. 
Supposing  we  were  married  now,  this  morning,  after 
you  have  slept  a  little  while." 

"Do  you  mean  that,  or  is  it  one  of  the  dreams?" 

"You  will  not  have  any  more  unpleasant  dreams, 
Ray.  Go  to  sleep  now,  dear." 

She  rose  and  darkened  the  window,  then  returned 
to  the  bedside  and  sang  a  little  lullaby. 

After  a  while  she  ceased,  supposing  him  to  be  asleep 
as  he  was  very  quiet.  She  rested  her  head  against  hh 
pillow  and  closed  her  tired  eyes. 

"  Margery ! " 


""THEE   LOVED   I   EVER. 

"What,  Ray?" 

*'  Did  you  say  a  while  ago  that  we  could  be  married 
to-day?" 

"Yes,  if  you  think  it  would  not  excite  you  too 
much." 

"Put  your  cheek  against  mine,  dear,  and  tell  me  the 
truth.  Is  it  be«mse  I  am  going  to  die?" 

o          o 

"No,  dear  love.  It  is  to  make  you  get  well  the 
faster." 

"  You  must  be  telling  the  truth." 

"  Could  I  speak  to  you  at  all,  could  I  control  my 
voice,  if  I  thought  you  were  going  to  leave  me  ?  You 
are  very  much  better  already,  Ray."  The  inspiring 
strength  of  her  soft  Voice  and  touch  gave  her  patient 
#  feeble  thrill. 

"Are  you  quite  sure  you  cannot  sleep?  Shall  I 
sing  to  you  again." 

"No,  I  do  not  want  to  sleep  again  until  you  are  my 
wife,  Margery." 

She  kissed  him  and  went  to  the  door.  As  soon  as 
she  opened  it  the  doctor  stepped  into  sight.  "  Mr. 
Wright  may  come  now,"  she  said,  quietly.  She  went 
back  to  the  window  and  re-admitted  the  golden  shaft 
of  sunlight,  and  then  knelt  down  beside  the  bed.  She 
took  something  from  her  pocket  and  put  it  into  Ray's 
right  hand.  "That  is  my  wedding  ring,"  she  said, 
sottly.  "Don't  move,  dear,  you  shall  put  it  on  my 
finger  in  a  minute.  Close  your  eyes.  The  minister  in 
here  and  is  going  to  read  to  us." 

Mr.  Wrictht  had  come  m  and  was  standbier 


848  NEXT  DOOK. 

her.  The  door  was  open,  and  the  doctor,  Mr.  Exton, 
Kate,  and  Aunt  Ann,  stood  just  outside.  She  lifted 
Ray's  hand  and  rested  her  cheek  against  it  Avhile  the 
minister  began  quietly  to  read  aloud.  At  the  proper 
moment  she  slipped  her  finger  through  the  ring.  Ray 
lay  pale  and  still,  with  his  eyes  obediently  closed, 
His  mind  evidently  did  not  wander,  for  his  response 
was  prompt  and  audible.  There  was  a  short  prayer, 
then  a  slight  rustle  and  the  closing  of  a  door,  and  the 
married  pair  were  alone.  The  ceremony  had  been  so 
brief  and  unexciting  that  Margery's  last  fear  vanished. 
"My  darling  husband,  are  you  happy?"  she  said, 


The  smile  that  stole  over  Ray's  lips  was  radiant. 

"  '  Thee  loved  I  ever,  I  love  but  tbee,'  "  he  breathed, 
and  paused. 

Margery  laid  her  soft  hand  against  his  cheek  and 
kissed  him. 

"  And  thee  will  I  love  to  eternity,"  she  finished,  sol- 
emnly. 

Kate  and  Aunt  Ann  waited  a  long  time  in  the 
parlor.  Mr.  Exton  assured  them  that  they  should  see 
Margery  before  they  went.  She  had  told  him  that 
ehe  wanted  to  see  them. 

The  three  sat  talking  together  in  a  very  subdued 
mood  when  Dr.  D  -  came  in,  a  smile  on  his  usually 
non-committal  face. 

*'  Well,  my  friends,"  he  said,  "  I  feel  pretty  certain 
that  I  can  take  the  evening  train  for  Boston." 


"THEE   LOVED   I  EVEK."  349 

Exton  nodded  and  smiled.  "Then  no  harm  has 
keen  done,  you  think." 

"  It  looks  as  though  certain  good  had  been  done.  I 
am  just  from  the  patient  and  every  syrapton  is  favora- 
ble. I  will  have  a  talk  with  Dr.  Oakley  this  afternoon, 
and  then  I  think  I  may  go.  We  doctors,"  turning  to 
Kate,  "  wish  there  were  more  women  like  your  sister.' 

"  Are  we  going  to  see  her  ?  "    asked  Kate. 

"  Yes ;  she  asked  me  to  send  you  to  her,  Mr.  Exton." 

The  latter  rose  promptly,  and  gave  his  hand  to 
Kate.  "  I  shall  come  Up  to  the  farm  to-morrow,'*  he 
eaid. 

"We  haven't  told  him  a  word  about  his  ma,"  re- 
marked Aunt  Ann.  "No,"  as  he  turned  back  anx- 
iously, "  she  ain't  sick  ;  she's  only,  —  well  she's  going 
away.  You  come  and  see  her." 

"  I  will,"  replied  Exton,  and  left  the  room. 

The  doctor  took  his  leave,  and  Aunt  Ann  and  Kate 
were  alone. 

"Now,  Kate,"  said  the  former,  swallowing  with  evi- 
dent difficulty,  "  we've  cried  enough.  Do  let's  be 
cheerful,  for  Margery's  sake." 

She  had  hardly  spoken  the  words  when  the  girl 
came  in.  She  wore  a  plain  white  dress,  her  sunny  hair 
and  blue  eyes  being  the  only  color  about  her. 

"  Kate ! " 

"Margery!"  and  the  two  were  locked  in  each 
other's  arms.  For  all  Aunt  Ann's  determination  her 
tears  flowed  freely  as  she  watched  the  meeting.  The 
listers  looked  into  one  another's  faces  fondly. 


350  NKXT   DOOR. 

"  Oli,  how  long  it  seems,  Margery ! " 

"How  good  it  is  to  see  you  again,  Kate;  why,  you 
mustn't  cry, "  continued  Margery,  turning  to  Aunt 
Ann,  who  embraced  her,  making  broken  apologies. 

"Folks  do  cry  at  weddings,  you  know,  Margery, 
and  you  and  Ray  are  so  dear,"  she  said.  "There,  I've 
finished  now,  I'm  sure,  and  I  wish  you  a  long  life  of 
happiness." 

Margery  smiled.  Aunt  Ann  and  Kate  each  had  one 
of  her  hands. 

"  I  am  sure  that  there  never  was  a  happier  bride," 
she  returned.  "  Ray  is  decidedly  better  to-day,  and 
Dr.  D says  everything  is  going  on  well." 

"  I  am  so  glad  for  you,  Margery,"  said  Kate.  "  It  is 
a  great  thing  for  you  to  be  able  to  do  so  much  for  him 
right  at  the  outset  of  your  lives." 

"And  as  soon  as  he's  able  to  take  a  wedding 
trip  to  the  farm  you'll  come  up  there,"  said  Aunt 
Ann. 

"  That  would  be  the  very  thing  we  should  like  best, 
but  you  have  not  room." 

"  Oh,  but  we  shall  have,"  returned  the  latter,  eagerly. 
''Mrs.  Exton  is  going  away." 

"  Indeed ! " 

"Yes,  she  is,  really.  She's  going  to  join  her  sister 
at  some  Springs  somewhere  in  New  York  State.  She 
may  go  any  minute.  Yes,  I  know  it's  queer;  but  she 
Eeems  to  be  one  of  those  kind  of  sick  folks  that's  al»!o 
to  do  whatever  they  want  to." 

ule  she  angry  with   me9 "asked  Margery,  quietly 


"THEE   LOVED   I    EVER."  351 

*  I  have  thought  that  at  a  time  when  so  much  was  at 
Itake  she  would  put  aside  her  prejudices." 

"Do  not  give  the  matter  a  second  thought,"  said 
Kate,  with  her  brilliant  smile.  "  Your  Uncle  John  haa 
adopted  your  cause.  You  and  Ray  can  be  a  second 
pair  of  babes  in  the  woods,  and  he  will  look  out  for 
your  needs." 

"  How  I  love  that  man  !  "  said  Margery,  fervently. 
"Oh,  Kate,  I  wish  you  knew  him  as  I  do.  I  was  not 
worrying  over  finances  when  I  spoke  ;  for  Mr.  Exton 
told  me  yesterday  that  when  Ray  gets  well  he  will 
take  him  into  partnership." 

There  was  a  step  in  the  hall  as  she  spoke,  and  she 
had  hardly  finished  when  Mr.  Exton  came  into  the  room. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you,  Mrs.  Ingalls,"  he  said, 
brightly ;  "  but  your  husband  is  asking  for  you." 

She  started,  and  bestowed  hasty  kisses  on  Kate  and 
Aunt  Ann.  "  Wait  a  few  days,"  she  said,  "  and  then 
yon  can  come  to  see  me  often.  Good-bye,  dear 
people." 

Kate  stood  looking  after  her  as  she  hurried  from  the 
room.  Little  Margery,  married,  hers  no  longer,  ab- 
sorbed, devoted  to  another.  In  that  moment  Kate 
felt  one  last  pang  of  parting  from  the  old  life.  Exton 
read  her  thoughts  with  love's  intuition. 

"  Margery  is  wooed  and  married  and  all,  and  yet 
you  find  yourself  free,"  he  said,  comfortingly. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Kate.  "  It  is  a  good  thing  to 
remind  me  of  my  blessings.  I  shall  never  forget  how 
touch  I  owe  you,  Mr.  Exton.  I  did  not  feel  grateful 


852  NEXT  DOOR. 

at  the  time ;  but  from  this  distance  I  do.  Foul 
mother  —  " 

"Has  she  made  you  any  apology,  Miss  Standish?" 

"  No ;  please  do  not  urge  it.  She  has  taken  a 
sudden  determination  to  go  away  and  join  her  sister 
at  Richmond  Springs.  She  seems  much  better,  sud- 
denly better." 

Exton  raised  his  eyebrows  and  looked  thoughtful. 
"  I  suppose  I  had  better  see  her,  then." 

"You  can  come  up  with  us  now  if  you  want  to," 
eaid  Aunt  Ann.  "  I've  got  the  double  wagon." 

*'  Thank  you  ;  I  will  do  so.  I  shall  be  back  in  time 
to  see  Dr.  D ,  and  get  his  last  directions." 

So  Mr.  Exton  drove  Dick,  Aunt  Ann's  strong,  slow 
horse,  homeward,  with  Aunt  Ann  and  Kate  on  th« 
back  seat  of  the  wagon.  He  found  his  mother  super- 
intending the  packing  of  her  trunk.  She  sent  Molly 
out  of  the  room  as  he  entered  it. 

"You  see  I  am  going,"  she  said.  "  It  would  be  an  im- 
possibility for  me  to  remain  here  without  angering  you." 

John  stood,  leaning  his  elbow  on  the  wooden  mantel, 
with  its  wriggling,  painted  lines. 

"  Have  you  any  objection  to  Miss  Standish  beyond 
the  fact  of  her  humble  position  and  connections?"  he 
asked,  quietly. 

Mrs.  Exton  made  an  impatient  gesture.  "None 
other  is  needed.  I  wanted  her  for  a  companion.  That 
is  her  proper  niche." 

"I  want  her  for  my  companion.  I  hope  she  wiB 
see  that  to  be  her  proper  niche." 


"THEE  LOVED  I   EVER."  353 

"  I  will  never  remain  where  I  shall  have  to  answer 
people's  questions  about  her ;  where  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  betray  tl:e  bitter  disappointment  you  have  caused 
me." 

"  I  refuse  to  quarrel  with  you,  mother.  This  is  all 
very  premature.  I  told  you  my  hopes  for  Miss  Stan- 
dish's  sake,  because  I  thought  I  might  influence  you  to 
see  with  my  eyes.  I  prophesy  that  if  she  consents  to 
be  my  wife,  she  will  become  a  power  in  society,  by 
right  of  her  own  force  and  magnetism,  aside  from  any 
position  I  can  give  her.  You  are  a  prudent,  shrewd 
woman.  Surely  you  realize  that  any  open  break  now 
may  result  in  awkwardness  for  the  future." 

"I  do  not  feel  the  need  of  your  advice,  John. 
Remember  that  my  h«a.rt  is  open  to  you  whenever  you 
want  my  affection.  1  take  the  train  at  seven  o'clock. 
I  shall  stop  in  and  see  Ray  on  my  way  to  the  depot." 

"  I  hardly  think  Margery  will  let  you  see  him.  We 
all  defer  to  her  judgment.  Intuition  seems  to  serve 
her  in  that  sick-room  in  place  of  experience.  We 
have  been  sorry  every  time  we  have  deviated  from  her 
suggestions." 

Mrs.  Exton  bit  her  lip.  "  His  own  grandmother !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "The  idea  that  I  should  have  to  ask 
permission  of  that  child  —  " 

"  That  child  is  Ray's  wife." 

"  What ! " 

"  They  we^e  married  this  morning." 

Mrs.  Exton  gave  him  one  look  of  angry  reproach. 

"That  is  another  case,  mother,  where,  if  you  will 


854  NEXT  DOOR. 

take  my  advice,  you  will  leave  a  pleasant  message 
behind  you.  Consider  the  future.  I  am  going  to  take 
Ray  into  partnership." 

The  old  lady  rose  and  crossed  the  room  with  a  firm 
tread,  threw  the  door  open  and  called  her  maid. 

"  Go  on  with  the  packing,"  she  ordered. 

"  I  will  not  interrupt  you  any  longer,"  said  Exton, 
and  withdrew.  He  did  not  see  his  mother  again  until 
he  went  to  the  train  to  bid  her  good-bye.  Sore  as  his 
heart  was  over  her  obstinacy  and  bitterness,  he  could 

not  help  smiling  as  he  introduced  Dr.  D to  her. 

The  doctor  was  leaving  by  the  same  train,  and  Exton 
foresaw  the  helpless  fashion  in  which  she  would  be 
obliged  to  listen  all  the  evening  to  his  enthusiastic 
praises  of  Margery.  Of  course  the  doctor  would  sup- 
pose that  he  could  find  no  more  welcome  theme  for 
conversation  than  her  new  granddaughter. 

There  was  a  blessed  atmosphere  of  peace  at  the  farm 
that  night.  Aunt  Ann  and  Kate  could  hardly  make  up 
their  minds  to  go  to  bed,  for  enjoyment  of  it.  There 
was  a  placidity  in  Kits'  smile,  as  he  lay  beside  them 
with  his  eyes  closed,  that  did  not  escape  his  mistress' 
observation. 

"  I'm  sure  if  ever  a  cat  enjoyed  a  good  conscience 
you  do,  Kits.  You've  remembered  to  speak  pleasant 
right  straight  along.  He  was  a  good,  patient  old  fel- 
low, so  he  was,"  and  Aunt  Ann  stooped  over  to 
smooth  the  cat's  back. 

Kate  laughed.  "I  think  you  couldn't  have  been  on 
ihe  piazza  a  few  minutes  before  they  started,  when 


"THEE    LOVED   I   EVER."  355 

poor  Dandy  was  making  his  adieux.  Kits  came  around 
the  corner  suddenly,  and  flew  at  him  with  a  speech 
that  was  anything  but  pleasant." 

"  That  was  because  he  was  taken  by  surprise,  Kate. 
Kits  is  very  impulsive ;  that's  his  way." 

"Well,  I  imagine  Dandy  will  spend  his  night  in 
hoping  that  there  will  not  be  any  impulsive  cats  at 
Richmond  Springs.  How  different  the  house  feels, 
Aunt  Ann." 

"As  different  as  daylight  and  dark.  I've  got  all 
the  windows  open  in  her  room,  and  there's  a  draught 
right  through,  so's  to  blow  out  any  stray  scraps  she 
may  have  left  behind  her  of  selfishnesss,  exactingness, 
complaining,  jealousy,  and  pride." 

"  No  wonder  we  are  happy  to-night,"  rejoined  the 
girl,  dreamily,  smoothing  Kits"  head.  The  evening 
was  cool,  and  she  wore  a  cashmere  dress,  while  Aunt 
Ann's  was  calico;  so  it  was  into  the  woollen  lap  that 
Kits  had  suddenly  leaped  with  a  lofty  certainty  of 
welcome.  "We  have  the  house  to  ourselves;  we 
are  looking  forward  to  a  long  visit  from  Margery  and 
Ray;  what  more  could  we  ask  for?" 

The  speaker  was  quite  unconscious  that  these  bless- 
ings, with  all  their  accompanying  freedom  and  pleas- 
ure, would  count  for  naught  should  she  suddenly  hear 
that  a  certain  tall,  serious  man,  who  was  sharing  Mar- 
gery's watch  to-night  in  the  village,  had  betaken  him- 
self to  parts  unknown.  She  was  as  yet  ignorant  of 
the  fact  that  her  surroundings  took  their  coloving, 
vhameleon-like,  from  John  Exton's  presence. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

WOOD  VIOLETS. 

RAY  and  Margery  had  been  at  the  farm  a  week,  and 
Ray  was  beginning  to  walk  about  out  of  doors.  A 
whole  chapter  might  be  given  to  describing  the  devo- 
tion of  his  young  wife ;  but  the  imagination  can  depict 
the  innumerable  attentions  that  Margery  found  loving 
reason  to  pay  him  in  the  course  of  a  day. 

Aunt  Ann  never  tired  of  watching  them  together. 

"  She  isn't  beginning  right  with  me,"  said  Ray, 
shaking  his  head  gravely.  "  This  is  the  sort  of  treat- 
ment that  develops  a  husband  into  a  tyrant ;  isn't  it, 
Aunt  Ann?" 

"Just  wait  until  you  can  go  alone,  young  man,  and 
«ee  how  suddenly  you  will  have  to  turn  around  and 
wait  on  me,"  remarked  Margery,  gayly.  Ray  still 
carried  his  arm  in  a  sling,  and  looked  pale  and  interest- 
ing ;  but  he  was  well  enough  to  enjoy  life  at  the  farm 
thoroughly.  Aunt  Ann  had  been  easily  persuaded  to 
take  Mr.  Exton  into  her  family ;  and  time  could  not  be 
said  to  hang  heavily  on  the  hands  of  any  one  of  the 
quintette. 

356 


WOOD    VIOLETS.  357 

Ray  enjoyed  lying  in  a  hammock,  with  Margery  sit- 
ting beside  him  going  on  with  her  sewing  from  the 
point  where  she  had  been  obliged  so  suddenly  to  aban- 
don it.  They  could  watch  Exton  and  Kate  playing 
tennis  close  by.  The  latter  was  being  taught  the 
game ;  and  her  efforts,  failures,  and  successes  provided 
plenty  of  amusement  for  the  audience.  Kate  came  up 
one  afternoon,  flushed  and  tired  with  her  exertions, 
and  threw  herself  down  on  the  grass  beside  the  ham- 
mock. 

"  I  think  you  have  laughed  at  me  enough  for  one 
day,  my  dear  brother,"  she  said,  panting. 

"  No,  indeed ;  laugh  and  grow  fat,"  returned  Ray. 
"  You  are  better  than  a  tonic.  I  suspect  by  the  time 
I  am  able  to  play  you  will  beat  me  all  to  pieces." 

"You  must  not  get  too  heated,  Kate,"  observed 
Margery,  threading  her  needle.  She  had  taken  to 
making  wise  suggestions  to  her  sister,  of  late,  with  a 
little  matronly  manner  which  amused  the  latter  im- 
mensely. 

"  I  cannot  let  you  off  yet,  Miss  Kate,"  said  Exton, 
coming  up  at  this  juncture.  "  We  have  an  hour  yet 
before  it  is  time  to  go  for  the  mail."  By  which 
remark  it  will  be  seen  that  for  these  two  to  perform 
the  onerous  duty  of  bringing  the  family's  mail  had 
become  a  daily  affair. 

"Well,  good-bye,  then,"  said  Kate,  accepting  l.ia 
hand  in  rising  from  the  grass.  "  I  will  add  a  little 

CT  ~ 

more  to  Ray's  weight.     You  ought  to  be  making  m« 
help  you  sew  instead,  Margery." 


B58  NEXT   DOOIt. 

"Never  mind,"  said  the  latter,  with  a  contented 
Binile.  "  I  have  all  my  life  now  in  which  to  prepare 
my  trousseau." 

Ray  took  advantage  of  the  fact  that  the  tennis 
players  had  turned  their  backs  to  seize  Margery's  hand 
and  carry  it  to  his  lips.  They  were  an  uncommonly 
considerate  young  couple.  They  usually  did  wait  for 
people's  backs  to  be  turned  for  the  commission  of  such 
petty  larcenies.  •  .. 

"  '  Love  all,'  "  repeated  Ray,  after  a  minute,  echoing 
Exton's  call.  "A  very  good  suggestion.  Have  you 
ever  thought  of  it,  Margery  ?  n 

"Of  what?" 

"  That  those  two  would  make  a  good  match." 

Of  course,  Margery  had  thought  of  it  twenty  times 
a  day  in  the  last  week.  What  young  wife  is  not  a 
matchmaker?  But  enough  of  bygone  teaching  re- 
mained with  her  to  render  her  cautious,  even  in 
speaking  to  Ray.  Uncle  John's  importance  still 
remained  an  imposing  fetish,  even  though  she  had 
come  to  be  so  deeply  attached  to  him,  and  to  know 
the  honest  sti-aightforwardness  of  his  nature. 

"You  needn't  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  Kate  mar- 
ried now,"  she  said,  evasively. 

"No,"  returned  Ray,  lazily,  "that  is  true;  but  I 
wonder  who  it  is  that  Uncle  John  says  is  so  in  love 
with  her,  some  friend  of  his." 

"  Indeed  ! "  said  Margery,  with  interest.  "  I  wondei 
;f  it  could  possibly  be  the  man  who  pays  her  extra 
lalary  at  church.  Wouldn't  that  be  romantic  ? ''' 


WOOD    VIOLETS.  859 

"  Would  it  ?    You  are  authority." 

"  Well,  he  cannot  have  her,  Ray.  Hhe  is  going  to 
ive  with  us,  isn't  she,  and  have  the  prettiest  room  in 
the  house?" 

"Every  room,  if  she  wants  it;  but  it  is  a  wonder 
Uncle  John  doesn't  see  what  a  fine  girl  she  is.  I  sup- 
pose he's  like  one  of  these  big  trout  who  has  been 
angled  for  so  much  that  he  can't  be  induced  to  touch 
any  fly,  no  matter  how  bright  its  wings  are.  Why, 
Kate  is  almost  as  good-looking  as  you  are." 

"Ray  Ingalls,  are  you  blind?  As  good-looking  as 
I  am  !  I  am  nothing  beside  Kate  !  Well,  yes,  dear ; 
of  course,  I  am  to  you ;  but  to  an  impartial  observer 
—  why,  you  don't  appreciate  Kate !  " 

"That  is  just  the  way  he  went  on  that  night  we 
were  talking  about  you  both,  telling  how  this*  man, 
whoever  he  is,  raved  over  her,  and  praising  her  up 
beyond  you.  It  made  me  tired." 

"  He  wouldn't  tell  who  the  man  was?"  Margery 
looked  around  at  him  sharply. 

"No ;  just  walked  up  and  down  the  floor  and  ranted.' 

"Why,  Ray  Ingalls!"  Margery  turned  and  looket 
long  and  thoughtfully  at  the  tennis  players,  then  back 
at  her  husband.  "  You  dear  old  stupid,"  .she  said, 
smiling;  and  her  cheeks  reddened.  Then  she  picked 
up  her  work,  still  smiling,  and  went  on  sewing  and 
humming  a  little  song.  Ray  was  too  languidly,  lazily 
happy  to  inquire  into  her  epithet.  A  successful  hit  oi 
Kate's  challenged  his  attention.  "Hurrah,"  he  cried 
*  that  was  a  good  one,  Margery." 


860  NEXT   DOOE. 

«'  The  violets  ! "  exclaimed  the  latter,  suddenly,  look 
ing  off  into  space. 

"  What  violets?"' 

"Oh  —  a  —  nothing."  And  she  went  on  sewing, 
fast  and  furiously.  The  players  finally  ceased,  and 
came  slowly  toward  them,  talking  and  laughing. 

"  I  do  not  believe  I  have  breath  enough  left  to  walk 
flown  to  the  post-office,"  announced  Kate. 

"  Oh,  you  can  take  it  slowly,"  replied  Margery.  "  It 
is  too  bad  to  make  Uncle  John  go  alone." 

"Cruelty,  pure  and  simple,"  said  Exton. 

"  Then  you  should  not  have  made  me  play  so  long," 
returned  Kate. 

"You  must  change  your  dress,  dear,"  said  Margery. 
"Go  right  in  and  do  it,  and  put  on  that  lavender 
and  white  muslin." 

Kate  laughed.  She  thought  her  sister  was  becoming 
unnecessarily  explicit. 

"You  are  getting  extravagant,  my  dear.  I  do  hot 
care  to  drag  my  best  dress  through  the  woods." 

"Oh,  pshaw,  the  season  is  almost  over,"  said  Mar- 
gery ;  "  put  it  on  to  please  me." 

The  season  is  almost  over!  The  words  startled 
Kate.  Almost  September.  Almost  time  for  routine 
work  to  commence.  Of  course,  she  would  walk  through 
the  woods  to  the  post-office.  Of  course,  she  would 
accept  every  pleasure  of  the  pleasant  time  with  3 
grateful  heart. 

She  went  into  the  house.  She  committed  the  ex- 
travagance of  putting  on  the  fresh,  dainty  muslin,  in 


WOOD    VIOLETS.  361 

«vhich  she  knew  she  looked  her  best;  but  she  did  not 
know  how  lovely  her  best  was.  She  was  too  accus- 
tomed to  the  sight  of  her  own  attractions  in  the  glass ; 
and  she  had  never  had  occasion  to  set  any  value  upon 
her  looks. 

She  came  across  the  grass  to  the  group  by  the  ham- 
mock ;  and  even  Ray  had  admiring  eyes  for  her. 

"  Couldn't  you  wear  that  all  the  time,  Kate,"  he 
asked. 

"  Will  you  give  me  another  when  it  is  gone  ?  "  she 
retorted,  laughingly. 

"Indeed,  I  will,  and  call  it  a  cheap  bargain.  I 
always  did  wish  I  had  a  pretty  sister.  I  think  I've 
killed  two  birds  with  one  stone,  don't  yon,  Uncle 
John?" 

Exton  was  looking  at  Kate  with  such  open  admira- 
tion that  Margery  found  it  necessary  to  conceal  her 
agitation  by  using  her  dressmaker's  privilege  to  give 
her  sister's  drapery  an  unnecessary  arranging. 

"  Do  go  along,"  she  said.  "  I  fully  expect  a  letter 
to-night." 

She  stood  watching  Kate  and  Exton  pass  down  the 
slope,  and  cross  the  brook  on  a  plank,  whose  breadtl 
gave  the  latter  no  excuse  for  the  manner  in  which  hi 
turned  to  help  Kate  across.  They  disappeared  amon^ 
the  trees.  Margery  returned  to  Ray's  side.  She  took 
his  hand,  and  pressed  it  against  her  heart.  "Feel  how 
it  beats,"  she  said,  looking  excitedly  down  at  him. 

Kay  smiled.     "I  should  be  ^ery  sorry  if  it  didn't," 


362  NEXT   DOOR. 

She  sighed.  "  Once  in  a  very,  very  long  while  ] 
wish  you  were  a  girl,  Ray,"  she  remarked. 

Exton  and  Kate  found  only  the  former's  business 
mail  in  the  office,  together  with  a  telegram,  for  that 
was  the  deliberate  manner  of  conveying  telegrams  in 
Cedarville.  He  tore  it  open  and  gave  an  impatient 
exclamation.  "  I  must  go  back  to  town  to-morrow," 
he  said,  in  an  annoyed  tone. 

Kate  did  not  know  whether  the  annoyance  proceeded 
from  some  bad  news,  or  from  the  fact  of  being  obliged 
to  leave  Cedarville. 

"  Perhaps  you  think  it  is  kind  to  leave  me  to  take 
this  long  walk  alone  every  day,"  she  returned,  lightly. 
She  passed  ahead  of  him  through  a  gap  in  a  stone  wall, 
and  they  crossed  a  sunny  strip  of  pasture  land  before 
entering  the  woods. 

"It  will  not  be  for  many  day?,"  he  replied,  eagerly, 

"  Oh,  you  are  coming  back  again  ?  " 

They  had  passed  into  the  woods  now,  and  were 
walking  side  by  side  in  the  narrow  path.  His  face 
fell  at  the  indifference  of  her  tone.  "I  did  expect 
to,"  he  returned,  "if  you  think  it  would  be  agree- 
able." 

Kate  found  no  words  readily  to  reply  to  this,  so  she 
said  nothing. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  hesitated,  "  I  have  been  inconsiderate. 
I  have  not  thought  until  now  that  perhaps  I  ;im  impos- 
ing upon  Miss  Eaton.  She  is  so  hospitable  she  would 
never  allow  me  to  see  it." 

"Oh,"  said  Kate,  nervously,  "I  don't  think  so.     W« 


WOOD   VIOLETS.  363 

•—we  like  to  have  you  here.  I  should  be  sure  to  know 
It  if  you  were  at  all  unwelcome." 

"Then  do  you  think  I  had  better  come  back?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  of  course,  whether  it  is  better  for 
you." 

"Neither  do  I,"  said  Exton,  with  a  long  breath. 
He  was  far  from  being  an  assured  lover.  He 
had  never  felt  so  timid  in  his  life  as  at  this 
instant.  "  I  think  you  had  better  decide  for  me, 
Miss  Kate." 

"  There,  I  have  torn  my  dress !  "  she  exclaimed,  as 
the  flimsy  muslin  caught  on  a  log. 

Her  companion  stooped  and  disengaged  it.  "  It  is 
not  badly  torn,"  he  said,  earnestly,  going  down  on  one 
knee  in  the  leafy  path  and  holding  the  flounce  in  both 
hands  as  he  examined  the  little  rent.  "Is  it  very 
important?" 

Kate  sighed.  "It  is  my  best  dress.  It  was  foolish 
in  me  to  wear  it." 

"It  is  too  bad,"  said  the  other,  sympathetically. 
He  could  not  know  that  the  organdie  had  not  cost  five 
dollars  a  yard. 

"But  I  can  easily  mend  it,"  she  added,  more  cheer- 
fully. 

"Could  you  not  pin  it  up  so  it  will  not  tear  any 
further?" 

"Yes,  if  I  had  a  pin." 

"  Well,  I  have  one ;  here  it  is." 

Kate  thanked  him  and  sat  down  on  the  log.  Exton 
teated  himself  beside  her,  and  watched  her  hands  a* 


864  NEA.T   DOOR. 

she  wove  in  the  couple  of  pins  he  gave  her.  When  it 
was  done  she  started  to  rise. 

"  Let  us  wait  a  little,"  he  suggested.  "  This  is  a 
pleasant  half-way  house.  What  were  we  talking  about? 
Oh,  yes;  I  had  just  left  it  to  you  to  say  whether  I 
should  come  back  again.  This  is  a  lonely  walk  for 
one.  Do  you  not  think  I  had  better  ?  " 

Kate  turned  away  and  dug  the  point  of  her  parasol 
into  the  damp  moss  that  lay  near  the  log,  where  the 
ground  declined  to  the  edge  of  a  little  stream.  The 
trees  rustled  above  their  heads,  and  the  late  afternoon 
sunlight  slanted  through  their  branches.  There  was 
that  rare  inflection  in  his  voice  that  made  her  heart 
beat  painfully,  and  she  had  to  recall  desperately  every 
sensible  theory  concerning  the  humane  confirmed 
bachelor. 

"I  cannot  judge  you  by  myself,  Mr.  Exton,"  she 
leplied.  "  I  am  eager  for  as  long  a  vacation  as  I  can 
g-3t.  You  see  it  is  a  desperate  case  with  me,"  she 
added,  laughing  naturally.  "  I  have  a  long  working 
day  ahead.  If  I  anticipated  being  able  to  run  away 
South,  for  instance,  in  the  middle  of  winter,  it  would 
be  different ;  as  it  is,  I  want  every  day  here  in  the 
country  that  I  can  get.': 

"  Should  you  like  to  go  South.?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  should.  Ray  and  Margery  were  talking 
about  it  the  other  day.  I  foresee  considerable  trouble 
between  that  young  couple  and  myself.  Margery  is 
going  to  be  so  determined  that  I  shall  have  every 
pleasure  she  does,  that  I  do  not  know  how  it  will  work 


WOOD  VIOLETS. 

for  me  to  live  with  them.  Dear  child,  how  she  will 
enjoy  social  gayety !  But  I  shall  hold  the  threat  over 
her  that  unless  she  will  let  me  live  my  life  quite  sepa 
rate  from  hers  I  shall  have  to  go  elsewhere." 

u  You  mean  to  be  as  rigid  as  ever  in  your  rules 
about  mixing  work  and  play  ?"  Exton  asked  the  ques- 
tion dispiritedly.  Her  manner  discouraged  him. 

"I  am  going  to  try." 

"  Well,  shall  we  go  on  ?"  he  said,  after  a  pause. 

She  rose  with  a  sudden  sinking  of  the  heart.  Why 
ghould  she  experience  such  a  sensation  of  disappoint, 
ment?  She  had  expected  nothing.  They  moved 
along  again  side  by  side. 

"Here  we  are  at  the  slough  of  despond,"  he  re- 
marked as  the  ground  descended  and  grew  damp.  He 
stooped,  and,  rising,  placed  three  violets  in  her  hand. 
"  This  path  grows  more  uncertain  every  day.  There! " 
as  she  made  a  misstep,  "  that  is  the  second  time  you 
have  slipped.  You  might  turn  your  ankle  in  this  rough 
place.  Won't  you  take  my  arm  ?  " 

"  Thank  you ;  I  do  not  need  it." 

"Yes;  you  had  better  let  me  help  you."  He  divw 
her  hand  through  his  arm.  "  I  believe  you  do  not  like 
to  lean  on  any  one." 

She  did  like  to  lean  on  him.  Had  he  suspected  ho™ 
well,  this  scene  would  not  have  been  prolonged. 

She  drew  the  stems  of  the  violets  through  a  button- 
hole of  her  dress.  Her  head  was  close  to  him  as  sho 
did  so,  and  he  looked  longingly  at  every  lovely  featura 
ivhich  lingered  so  tenderly  in  his  memory  when  sne 


866  NEXT   DOOR. 

was  not  by.  Did  woman  ever  have  so  fine  a  skin,  sucfc 
soft  and  pretty  hair? 

"1  think  I  had  better  not  come  back,"  he  said, 
abruptly. 

"  Oh,  have  you  decided  it  ?    I  am  so  sorry ! " 

"  Are  you  sorry  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  am.     Why,  I  haven't  learned  tennis 

yet." 

Eixton  looked  gloomily  at  the  ground.  "Ray  can 
finish  your  education." 

Kate  sighed  lightly.  "  We  shall  all  miss  you  very 
rnuch.  How  quickly  pleasant  experiences  pass." 

"Will  life  be  any  less  pleasant  to  you  when  I  am 
gone?"  he  asked,  suddenly,  but  very  gravely. 

"  What  an  odd  question ! "  returned  Kate,  in  a  flutter 
of  discomfort,  with  her  hand  pinioned  so  close  within 
his  arm. 

"But  it  wants  an  answer."  The  courage  of  despair 
bad  overtaken  the  speaker. 

"  I  did  not  suspect  you  of  vanity." 

"And  you  do  not  now.  I  want  you  to  extinguish 
every  spark  of  hope  in  me  so  thoroughly  that  it  can 
find  no  reason,  however  absurd,  to  become  fanned  into 
life  again." 

Kate  leaned  heavily  on  his  arm. 

"  Answer  me." 

"  I  cannot  speak,"  she  breathed.     "  Wait." 

"Ah!  You  did  turn  your  ankle!"  exclaimed  Exton, 
penitently,  observing  her  pallor.  "  You  have  been  too 
ferave." 


WOOD   VIOLETS.  367 

He  feared  she  was  going  to  faint,  for  her  head 
drooped.  He  took  her  hand  and  supported  her  with 
his  arm,  holding  her  so  that  her  head  leaned  against 
his  shoulder. 

"  I  shall  be  myself  in  a  minute,"  she  said,  faintly, 
44  Tell  me  again  what  you  said." 

"  It  is  absurd  for  me  to  force  my  troubles  upon  yon 
when  you  are  in  pain.  Let  me  help  you  to  that  rock 
over  there." 

"No,"  said  Kate,  softly;  "I  am  not  suffering.  Tell 
me,  please." 

He  could  not  understand  her  passivity.  He  looked 
down  at  her  straight,  white  parting.  He  had  always 
felt  a  fastidious  pleasure  in  the  smooth  fashion  in 
which  her  hair  waved  away  from  it,  in  contrast  to  the 
bangs  and  frizzes  he  saw  on  other  women. 

He  pressed  her  to  him  unconsciously  as  he  spoke. 
"  I  want  you  to  say  in  so  many  words,  '  I  do  not  love 
you.  I  never  can  love  you.  This  is  final.'  For  I 
need  heroic  treatment.  Nothing  less  can  cure  me." 

Kate  was  still,  only  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  glad, 
strong  music  of  her  heart-beats  must  fill  the  wood. 
Then  she  slowly  drew  away  from  him  and  stood  there 
vtith  her  eyes  cast  down  but  her  lips  parted  in  a  radi- 
ant and  tender  smile. 

"  I  cannot  say  it,"  she  said.  Then  she  held  out  both 
her  hands  to  him. 

Ray  was  in  the  hammock  again  when  they  returned. 
Margery  had  dropped  her  sewing  and  sat  watching  the 


NEXT   DOOR. 


glorious  western  sky.  Aunt  Ann  was  near  by,  an 
Kits,  with  his  head  on  one  side  and  his  eyes  half  closed, 
was  sitting  on  his  haunches,  waving  his  tail  gently  to 
and  fro  and  watching  a  young  and  inexperienced 
sparrow,  who  was  trying  his  powers  in  the  tree  above 
them.  Kits  thought  there  was  a  reasonable  probabil- 
ity of  the  bird's  miscalculating  the  distance  from  one 
branch  to  another.  If  it  should  prove  so  —  well,  Kits 
was  fond  of  sparrow  au  tiaturel. 

"There  come  the  postmen,"  said  Aunt  Ann,  as 
Kate  and  Exton  crossed  the  brook.  They  came  very 
slowly  up  the  lawn,  talking  earnestly,  as  though 
minutes  were  precious. 

It  naturally  took  some  time  to  do  justice  to  her  de- 
light in  discovering  the  donor  of  the  violets,  to  explain 
that  there  had  never  been  a  moment  when  he  had  not 
preferred  her  voice  over  that  of  any  other  living  vo- 
calist, to  discuss  every  event  of  their  acquaintance 
with  its  joys  and  disappointments. 

Margery  watched  them  eagerly,  Ray  lazily,  Aunt 
Ann  complacently.  Kits  watched  the  sparrow. 

"Where  is  rny  letter?"  called  Margery,  absolutely 
unable  to  keep  silence  as  they  approached.  They 
looked  so  aggravatingly  well  together.  If  nothing 
had  happened  she  should  be  out  of  patience. 

"I  forget,"  replied  Kate,  confusedly.  Then,  turn- 
ing to  John,  "  Was  there  a  letter  for  her  ?  " 

He  took  the  bunch  from  his  pocket  and  ran  them 
>ver.  "  No,"  he  answered. 


WOOD   VIOLETS.  369 

"  You  must  have  taken  a  great  deal  of  interest  in 
your  errand,"  observed  Ray,  laughing. 

Kate  turned  away,  as  if  to  go  toward  the  house. 
Exton  seized  her  hand  and  drew  her  back. 

"  Do  not  go,  Kate.  They  are  all  friends  here,"  he. 
said,  with  a  slight  smile. 

Margery  looked  keenly  into  her  sister's  rosy  face. 
"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed,  involuntarily. 

"  What  is  it,  Margery  ?  "  asked  Exton. 

"  Oh,  —  nothing.     That  western  sky  is  so  lovely." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  said  the  other.  "  I 
think  you  suspect  your  sister." 

"  What  of  ?  "  asked  Margery,  with  wide-eyed  inno- 
cence. Kate,  making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  had  put 
her  hand  through  Aunt  Ann's  arm. 

"  She  is  afraid  that  now  you  are  married  she  can- 
not have  sufficient  control  over  you  merely  as  your 
sister.  She  thinks  of  becoming  your  aunt." 

Margery  caught  her  breath,  flung  her  arms  about 
Kate's  neck  and  kissed  her,  Ray  meanwhile  looking 
on  with  a  slow  comprehension ;  Aunt  Ann  put  on  her 
spectacles.  '"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked,  mildly. 

"  Why,  Kate  and  Uncle  John,"  explained  Mar- 
gery, incoherently.  "•  Just  the  loveliest  thing  in  the 

world." 

"  There  goes  my  pretty  sister,  the  minute    I've 
secured  her,"  grumbled  Ray,  with  the  broadest  ( 
smiles.     "  You  were  the  man  all  the  time,  Uncle 
John.     Confound  my  stupidity." 

Aunt  Ann  beamed  first  upon  one  and  then  upon  the 


NEXT   DOOR. 

Other  with  surprise  and  delight.  But  a  gratified  sense 
of  her  own  perspicacity  suddenly  possessed  her. 

"Kate,  you  know  I  always  said — "  she  began. 

Kate  put  a  hand  over  her  mouth.  "Never  mind 
what  you  always  said,  Aunt  Ann." 

Margery  danced  over  to  where  Kits  was  sitting,  and 
caught  him  up. 

"  Wish  her  joy,  Kits,"  she  said,  forcing  his  paw  into 
Kate's  hand.  "  You  shall  have  a  new  blue  satin  ribbon, 
and  dance  at  the  wedding." 

Kits  gave  a  loud  meow  of  disgust  as  he  leaped 
down.  He  had  lost  his  chance  with  the  sparrow. 

But  Aunt  Ann  had  to  go  in  to  see  about  supper,  and 
Margery  had  to  walk  up  to  the  house  with  Ray,  and 
Kate  and  John  were  left  alone  under  the  great  elm 
tree. 

The  latter  stood  looking  down  at  Kate's  averted 
face  with  a  great  content  in  his  eyes. 

She  lifted  hers  to  meet  them. 

"Your  mother,"  she  said,  softly  and  regretfully. 
M  This  is  why  she  went  away." 

Exton  smiled  re-assuringly.  "  Shall  I  tell  you  what 
rny  mother  will  do  in  the  future?"  he  asked. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  wish  to  hear." 

"Yes,  you  do.  When  you  have  won  the  hearts  of 
her  dear  five  hundred,  and  she  hears  your  praises,  she 
will  return  and  take  all  the  credit  of  having  discov- 
ered you.  You  may  have  to  endure  a  little  patronage 
from  her,  but  it  will  be  affectionate." 


WOOD   VIOLETS.  371 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  like  the  majority  of  for- 
tune-tellers, and  tell  only  what  I  wish  to  hear,"  re- 
sponded the  girl,  nevertheless  comforted.  They 
exchanged  a  look  in  which  Mrs.  Exton  was  entirely 
forgotten. 

"When  shall  we  go  South,  Kate?" 

"  I  do  not  care  so  much  as  I  did  about  climates." 

"Let  it  be  at  the  new  year.  Will  you,  dear? 
Let  the  new  year  and  the  new  life  begin  together., 
and  it  should  be  among  the  flowers." 

"  Yes,  there  should  be  plenty  of  flowers,"  an« 
swered  Kate. 


A     000  094  324     1 


